


The Minister's Decree

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, DFW GOGO Fest, Daddy Draco, F/M, Fluff, IDK I never write this kind of thing, Ministry of Magic, Smut, THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS, flangst, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 04:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18653164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: Ten years have passed since the Battle of Hogwarts and birthrates have steadily declined. In order to save the Wizarding World, the Minister enacts a Marriage Law.And Hermoine Granger is ready to burn down the patriarchy to make sure that doesn't happen.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiscuitsForPotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiscuitsForPotter/gifts).



> I wrote this *not* little diddy for the ever lovely BiscuitsforPotter for the DFW GOGO Fest! You will be reading the Prologue-y type thing and the first chapter! I blew right on past 10k word limit (oops) and have decided to post the first chapter, which still meets the criteria of the prompt, and post the last 3 chapters over the next few weeks! 
> 
> Full Disclosure: I do not read or write fluff or marriage law tropes but when I received my assignment that was the first thing that came to mind! You will find this is not overly fluffy, I'll get to that in later chapters but it's the best my little angsty heart could muster!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it BiscuitsforPotter!! It's been really fun writing it for you!
> 
> Due to procrastination and poor time management, this work is unbeta'd. Apologies. So any errors belong to me and Grammarly. Huge thanks to all the creative friends in my corner who helped me get this piece together, I think I've picked the brains of most everyone but BiscuitsforPotter in my attempt to write a Marriage Law lol. Extra shoutouts to PartyLines and MHCalamas, my forever cheerleaders and muses. Also to LaBelladonna for her help with the March portion. Mwah!

 

**The Evening Prophet - April 2003**

**LOWEST BIRTH RATE IN RECORDED HISTORY PLAGUES WESTERN EUROPE**

**By P.Patil**   
  


**The Minister of Magic spoke in the atrium of the Ministry this morning about the newest plague to the wizarding world. This time around, it's nothing to do dark wizards or the Black Cat Flu.**

 

**Next year, Hogwarts is expected to accept only fourteen First Years; the lowest in the schools recorded history. When questioned on what could be contributing to the low Magical births, Minister Shacklebolt introduced Astoria Malfoy; one of the leaders in reproductive healing and study.**

 

**"We can only surmise that the low birth rates are residual aftermath of the war. Not only did the wizarding world suffer massive casualties; but the survivors seem to be postponing marriage and childbirth until far later than has been traditional in our culture," Greengrass-Malfoy said this morning. "If the birth trends continue in a downward slope, we could see the endangering of our kind within the next few centuries. I have been working closely with a team of researchers on how we can rectify this problem, and hopefully, usher in a new generation of witches and wizards."**   
  


* * *

  
  
_**OFFICIAL MINISTRY DECREE #1298** _

 

_**Due to the steadily declining birth rates over the past ten years, the Ministry of Magic has entered into a State of Emergency. All witches and wizards of childbearing years are hereby required to read the attached documentation and sign this acknowledgment.** _

 

_**If the census department cannot claim an increase in magical births we will be forced to take drastic measures. We hope the attached pamphlet will be enlightening in assisting you in your decision to contribute to the next generation.** _

 

"It's completely ridiculous." Hermione's fingers closed on the memo, crumpling it and tossing it to the side of her desk before picking up the pamphlet and glancing it over. The same propaganda that had been shoved down her throat for the last few years: people needed to start having babies— and now. 

 

Well, Hermione really couldn't be bothered with impregnating herself in order to please the patriarchy. She was sick and tired of the endless drabble about her responsibilities to the magical world— she'd paid her dues; paid more than her share, if anyone asked her. No woman should be forced into motherhood and while someday Hermione could see herself being a mother, she was only twenty-nine years old. There was time. Even if there wasn't, she'd make the time. 

 

She snatched up the brochure and marched down the hall, flinging Harry's office door open and ignoring the groan he gave at her arrival, tossing his own copy of the new Ministry decree on his desk. 

 

"I know, Hermione," he mumbled. 

 

Hermione began pacing the length of his office, twisting her hands together at the base of her spine and shaking her head in disappointment. "They're creating a hysteria—"

 

Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his lips into a tight line. "I know." 

 

"—completely inventing a crisis where there is none. People will have babies when they are good and ready. They can't mandate this kind of thing! It's— it's— well it's fascist!" 

 

"So you've said." Her friend nodded along, bobbing his head back and forth as she ranted, as he always did. 

 

Hermione began pacing, "I swear if they enact some kind of… marriage law, I will completely lose my mind. This is why I'm going to run for Minister—" 

 

With an indelicate snort, Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione froze; her glare darkening at him. "Well, you've got ten years before you can be sworn in and after talking to Kingsley at dinner last weekend, I don't think you can wait that long." The curly-haired witch reared on him,  "They're going to do something, Hermione, whether you like or not. You need to be proactive before you get matched up and forced to consummate like livestock."

 

Rage bubbled in her chest and Hermione could do nothing but stare in utter disbelief. "You can't seriously be taking their side, Harry."

 

Harry rose to his feet, rounding his desk until he was staring directly into her eyes. She searched his emerald gaze for the flicker of a joke but found only none. "It's not taking sides, Hermione. I know you don't want to believe it, but the world we fought to save is dying. I don't want anyone to be forced into a marriage they don't want, but that's on the horizon— and soon."

 

"I refuse to believe it," she managed through a tight jaw. "Not until someone is forcing me down the aisle at wand-point."

 

Harry chuckled darkly, twirling the gold band on his finger and shaking his head. "As Head Auror, I will happily refuse that job."

  
  



	2. SPRING

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

  
  


* * *

**MARCH**

* * *

  
  
  


The bar was packed; barely a breath of air between the bodies that had poured into the tiny pub now that the workday had ended. Seamus had opened  The Rugger Bugger nearly half a decade before and while the Irish fare kept a decent crowd most nights; on Saint Patrick's day things got absolutely wild. 

 

He kept a small table near the front window for his friends and as Hermione slid through the throngs of drunk witches and wizards pretending to be Irish for the day, she grumbled to herself. A pint ‘o' the Black Stuff' (as it was listed on the menu) was shoved into her hands before she had even removed the scarf from her neck. 

 

"‘Mione!" Ron's burly arms swept her up in a bone-crushing hug and spun her around, nearly toppling to the floor and spilling the drink precariously clutched in her hands. 

 

Hermione's eyes narrowed at her friend as she moved towards their table. "Ronald, you are positively pissed drunk." 

 

The side of Ron's face pinched up unattractively as he chewed on the thought. "Quite possibly. But it's Saint Patrick's day—"

 

"It's Monday and you're British," she corrected with an amused twitch of her brow.

 

"Not today he's not!" Seamus chimed in, clapping an enthusiastic hand on Ron's shoulder and grinning. "Everyone's Irish today. This one's for me grams," he grinned, pouring a line of paddy's whiskey into glasses for the group. He pointed at her with a mischievous glint in his eye and gave her a wink before disappearing back into the crowd. 

 

Someone bumped into Hermione's back as her pint sloshed over the side, spilling onto her shoes and she scowled over her shoulder as she shook her hand free of the spilled Guinness. 

 

"Watch it!" she scolded only for her face to fall when it fell on the platinum blond wizard who'd run into her. 

 

"Granger." Malfoy greeted her formally, accepting a shot from Seamus and tipping it back before Seamus had even properly finished his drunken ramblings about his grandma or Ireland, or whatever he was speaking on currently. "How're things?"

 

"Brilliant. You?" 

 

"Brillant," Malfoy repeated, forcing a smile on his face only to press past her, his arm sliding on her waist as he slipped past her to greet his coworkers behind her. 

 

Hermione felt his touch hot through her blouse and with a slug of her pint and a shot of paddy's for Seamus' gram, she ignored the flutter it caused in her belly. 

  
  
  


* * *

**APRIL**

* * *

 

  
  
  


"Are you going to Malfoy's this weekend?" Harry asked over a cold cuppa, wincing as he took a sip. 

 

"Yeah." Hermione's lips turned down into a sad frown and she felt the sting of grief in her sinuses. "I can't believe it's been a year." 

 

Harry shook his head, his eyes darkening fractionally.  Hermione could only guess his mind was with his own– very pregnant– wife. 

 

It'd been five years since the fall of Voldemort and in that time they had buried many grievances. Once the rubble had been cleared it was just easier to forgive and start new.

 

Malfoy was now an Auror under Harry and while Hermione may not have been best mates with the blond, her heart had ached when they'd received news of his wife's death last April. 

 

Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy was well loved in the wizarding community and the news of her passing had been mourned widely. She'd passed on her birthing bed, her lips barely brushing against her son's forehead before fading away. 

 

"He finally seems like he's doing better. I swear I saw him laugh a few weeks back." One side of Harry's face pulled up into a sad, crooked smile and Hermione couldn't help but giggle. 

 

"Doubtful," she argued. "But I'm pretty sure laughs were rare even before Astoria. He's not exactly the most cheerful of people on his best days."

 

Harry's tongue clucked between his teeth. "He's not so bad, Hermione. A little cranky… cynical maybe… kinda pretentious—"

 

"Wow, you speak so highly of him!" Hermione mocked with a grin tugging at her lips. 

 

He barked out a laugh and regarded her with an arched brow. "Did you decide what you're going to do? December gets closer everyday." 

 

The curly-haired witch stiffened in her seat, anger taking over as she thought about the red circled date on her calendar and the implications of it all. "I'm ignoring it." 

 

"Hermione, you can't ignore it. You've got only a handful of months before they match you up with someone—" Harry was silenced by her glare. 

 

"I can't just get married to someone, Harry. I can't just go to those ridiculous little mixers that the Ministry hosts and parade myself like a whore for sale."

 

Harry flinched as she spoke, but Hermione felt unapologetic. 

 

December 31st.

 

That's when her age bracket was required to file their marriage license before the Ministry took action and made the decision for her. She still wasn't sure how they got here. The law was barbaric; forcing witches and wizards to procreate should be illegal. 

 

But, it seemed that the decisions regarding her body would be decided by a room full of old men and women far past the age to bear children. For the last two years, she fought the law in every way she could, but it continuously fell on deaf ears. 

 

Get married or forfeit your wand. 

 

What a fucking joke.

 

"You're Hermione Granger," Harry said. "You'll figure something out." 

  
  


Twirling the glass of champagne in her fingers, she stared at the roaming white peacocks with a curious pout. 

 

"They're pretty magnificent, aren't they?" Malfoy's voice startled her from her reverie and she let out a sqwak as she jumped from her spot, scaring the ivory birds from their place in a flurry of unusable wings and feathers. 

 

"Malfoy!" Her palm rested on her heaving chest as she turned to face him. "You scared the shite out of me." 

 

As her breathing calmed, she studied the smirk playing on his lips and her frown deepened. She wasn't used to the very sudden proximity of Draco Malfoy and stepped back slightly. 

 

"Sorry. Although, I find I'm more sorry for Gwen and Harlow." Draco's gaze lingered over her shoulder and her brow furrowed in confusion. "The birds you scared."

 

"No." She shook her head tersely, a few wayward tendrils tickling her cheek. "You startled them, by startling me." 

 

With a scoff, Draco's smirk deepened. "I merely remarked on how lovely they were. You screeched like a banshee and started flailing—"

 

"I do not flail," Hermione growled, taking a sip from her empty champagne flute. 

 

"I assure you— you flailed. I would reenact it, but, alas, Malfoy's do not flail." The specks of blue in his eyes seemed to flicker to life as he spoke, and Hermione couldn't remember ever seeing him quite so… well, pleasant. 

 

"You're in a good mood considering—" The words died in her throat as shame colored her face. 

 

"Considering its the anniversary of my wife's death, as well as Scorpius's first birthday?" His pale brows lifted high on his face as he looked down on her. "Do you want to know my secret?" 

 

Hermione nodded, and when he leaned in to whisper it near her ear she felt a flutter rise in her chest. "I'm very drunk." 

 

Her hand flew up to her lips to stifle the giggle that escaped and for the first time — ever — he laughed with her. 

 

"Well, as the host I think it's quite acceptable." She caught her lip between her teeth and returned her focus to the sprawling party in the garden, snagging another flute of champagne from a floating tray. 

 

Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever seen such an affair for a one-year-old. Tray services of crabcakes and prosciutto wrapped shrimp circulated constantly and under the giant white tent on the main lawn was a table stuffed with food and a three-tiered sky blue cake.

 

"It's kind of pretentious, isn't it?" 

 

Hermione choked, bubbles of champagne floating up into her sinuses. "Stop doing that!" she chastised as she dabbed her mouth a cocktail napkin. 

 

"Talking?" Malfoy peered down at her from the side of his eye. 

 

Her eyes narrowed and she fought the urge to stick out the tip of her tongue at him. "No, startling me. I don't like it." 

 

A smug smile played on his lips. "You always were easily riled. Made my job too easy."

 

Hermione was just about to scold him when a tiny voice called and Draco's attention left her instantly. "Dada!"

 

Her gaze fell on Narcissa Malfoy, quickly approaching them and cradling the small boy perched on her hip. Scorpius reached towards his father with a silly little laugh and she couldn't help but notice how sweet the pair of them seemed together. Narcissa didn't seem to miss it either; her eyes were boring into Hermione. The young witch gulped, her spine straightening out of habit, and she forced a tight smile on her face. 

 

Hermione wouldn't consider herself a very maternal person by nature, but Scorpius Malfoy was a stunning child: white-blond hair, with blue eyes like his mother and cheeks that screamed to be kissed.

 

"There's my boy," Malfoy grinned, reaching for his baby and lifting him effortlessly in the air for a moment before hugging him close. "Are you hungry?" 

 

Scorpius studied Hermione for a moment before lunging at her and nearly toppling out of Draco's arms. 

 

"Oh! Hello there." Hermione stared at the boy in her arms and felt another strange flutter. This entire interaction made her wonder if the champagne might be spiked with something stronger, perhaps a hallucinogenic. Because here she was, holding Baby Malfoy, standing next to Draco and Narcissa Malfoy in the garden outside the room she was tortured nearly ten years ago. 

 

Narcissa's lips quirked upwards in an almost smile. "I think he spied the cake. Maybe it's time we sing to him?"

 

"Is that you want, buddy? Time for cake?" 

 

"Cake! Cake!" Scorpius danced in Hermione's weak embrace and then dropped his weight back towards his father, who scooped him up effortlessly. 

 

"Then cake you shall have. Thanks for the laugh, Granger." Malfoy snuck her a wink as he retreated toward the tent and Hermione couldn't help but bite back a grin. That is until Lady Malfoy cleared her throat and brought the curly-haired witch's attention back to the fact that she was still in uncomfortable company. 

 

"Miss Granger," Narcissa greeted with a keen eye, taking a few steps closer to her. "Lovely dress." Her voice lifted and while both it and her words were friendly, something else seemed to be brimming under the surface.

 

"Oh!" Hermione looked down at the floral little wrap dress she'd chosen for the day. "Um, thank you. Your robes are beautiful as well." 

 

Opulent would be a better word to describe the robes donning the Lady of the Manor today; periwinkle satin with a ruched bodice and gilded with sparkling gems to match her grand diamond necklace. The hat, on the other hand, was just plain over the top. It looked like it belonged at a royal wedding and not a backyard birthday party for a one-year-old. 

 

Narcissa's eyes flashed for a moment and her gaze flickered to the back of her son. "Such a bittersweet day." 

 

Swallowing tightly, Hermione began shifting her weight. "Indeed. I feel so bad for both of them."

 

"They get on well enough, once Draco decided to return to the Manor that is. I believe before long the maternal edge to their familial triangle will be restored and all will be as it should be."

 

Hermione's jaw dropped open ever so slightly as Narcissa spoke about her son and grandchild. It was quite presumptuous to believe that Draco would marry again just to round out the family. Until realization dawned on her; that damned marriage law. 

 

"Well, I'm still working night and day to get that law repealed. Hopefully by December—"

 

Narcissa's tongue clucked against her teeth. "Oh, you misunderstand me. Draco doesn't fall under the umbrella of the law."

 

The brunette's brows pinched together and she turned towards Narcissa as she spoke. "But he's not married."

 

"How very astute." Narcissa raised an aristocratic brow. "But he most certainly was, and he also had contributed to the magical repopulation efforts. I simply mean that I have an odd feeling that Draco may becoming interested in dating again. After all, he was just shamelessly flirting with you." 

 

Hermione balked; spitting out the champagne in her mouth in a spray of poor etiquette. Narcissa watched with an amused expression as she attempted to regain her composure. 

 

"Malfoy doesn't flirt." 

 

"He does. He just did." Narcissa shrugged. "You'd not be a poor choice, all things considered. Educated and employed, very well regarded in society." The matronly witch seemed to be trying to convince herself more than anything else. "Scorp seems to enjoy your company well enough."

 

Hermione tucked a curl behind her ear and her cheeks flamed with a hot blush. "I think you're mistaken, ma'am."

 

That flash in the elder witches eyes returned and Hermione thought she almost looked… intrigued. "I rarely am," she allowed, followed by a beat of silence. "But, it looks as though we are about to cut the cake. Will you excuse me?"

 

"O-of course." Hermione's tongue felt useless and she nodded with eyes until Narcissa bowed her head and retreated towards the tent. When she was finally gone, Hermione mumbled under her breath. "What a weird fucking day."

 

* * *

**MAY**

* * *

 

 

Ten years. Gods, had it really been that long. 

 

Her fingers traced the faint lines of age and too many sunny days that had begun to etch the corners of her eyes. She chuckled then, dropping her hand away and realizing how ridiculous it was to be looking for wrinkles when ten years ago tonight hundreds of people lost their lives. What they would do for wrinkles. 

 

Her eyes caught on the garment bag hanging on the door to her closet and she eyed it disdainfully. Celebrating a victory felt wrong, especially when it still tasted like so much like loss. 

 

Ten years. 

 

She slipped her simple black gown on, mumbling a charm to manage the zipper and stood in front of her floor length mirror. Ginny had tried desperately to talk her into something a little flashier but Hermione insisted. If she was forced into toasting the dead over a too expensive dinner, she'd be doing so in black. 

 

The sheathed fabric hung from her frame, exposing the curve of her spine and while normally she didn't mind buying a pretty dress for a good cause, something about tonight tasted like bile in her mouth. 

 

Stepping through the Floo into the trophy room at Hogwarts, Hermione was accosted by flashing bulbs. Honestly, why would they do that? Surely the photographs they obtained from assaulting the party guests straight of the Floo couldn't be front page worthy. 

 

"Miss Granger! No date tonight?"

 

"Any prospects on the horizon before December arrives? C'mon give us a hint, lass!" 

 

Hermione very nearly growled as she stomped through the door and into the Great Hall, ignoring the blinding flash and running straight into a broad back. 

 

"Sorry," she grumbled, blinking away the final spots in her vision. "Oh, Ron," she sighed in relief. 

 

"There you are! Why are you scowling already?" Ron's eyes darkened as he studied her face. 

 

She swatted him with the back of her hand and pursed her lips lovingly at her friend. "I'm not scowling, I just don't want to be here."

 

"It's the Victory Ball! Let's get you something to drink, maybe I'll spin you around the dance floor a time or two. Yeah?" Ron bent his knees to meet her eyeline and shook her shoulders a few times, shaking the bad vibes from her and she couldn't help but chuckle back at him. 

 

Slipping her arm around his, she let herself be lead towards the bar, a smirk playing on the corner of her mouth. "Only if mine's a double." 

  
  
  


Watching the merriment from the fringe of the party, Hermione felt a sad knot settle deep in her gut. She chased the last of her fourth glass of champagne but it, unfortunately, did absolutely nothing for her mood. 

 

On the dance floor, Harry gently twirled a very pregnant Ginny around the dance floor and watching them, her resolve softened— slightly. As much as her cynical heart had hardened to love and all things related, watching two of her best friends fall head over heels for each other was pretty damn sweet. 

 

Through the throngs of people, the Ministers brightly colored robes emerged, heading straight for her and she stiffened in her chair as the Kingsley stood proudly next to her. 

 

"Miss Granger," he said in way of greeting. 

 

Hermione couldn't manage more than a clipped nod in his direction and summoned a tray for yet another champagne. 

 

"Are you going to stay mad at me forever?" His voice was soft, genuine, even. 

 

Hermione swept to her feet, the train of her dress curling at her feet. "Are you still planning to force to me get married and impregnated by a man I'm not in love with?" 

 

They stood, eye to eye, neither blinking for a few long beats before Kingsley's eyes hardened. With a curt bow of his head, he retreated back towards the party guests, his grin larger than before as he shook hands with his dignitaries. 

 

Rage pulsed through her limbs and suddenly everything felt too loud; everyone felt too close. Her heart clambered in her chest and she felt a desperate need to escape. She stomped towards the large double doors, snagging a bottle of champagne from behind the bar and marched off in nowhere in particular. 

  
  


Gods, the views from up here… there would never be a more beautiful sight: the rolling hills beyond the Black Lake, fringed with the darkness of the Forbidden Forest and outlined by an indigo sky and a smattering of stars. 

 

The railing felt cool under her touch and as wind swept through the tower, she heard the door below slam shut and she let out a wild yelp. 

 

Malfoy's dry chuckle filled the air and when he came into view, his face was bright in amusement. "Let me guess, I startled you again?"

 

"Yes. And surprisingly enough, I still don't like it." Her mouth twitched up in a half smile and she turned back towards the landscape. She hadn't seen him since their odd conversation at Scorpius's birthday party, but still, weeks later, a nest of nerves swelled in her belly. "What are you doing up here?"

 

Draco moved silently towards her, so quietly she almost startled again when he was suddenly leaning on the stone wall next to her. "Contemplating my life choices. You?"

 

"Plotting to bring down the patriarchy," Hermione said before tipping the bottle of champagne to her lips. She offered it to him next and he eyed it with a wary eye before accepting and slugging it himself. 

 

He handed the bottle back to her and she relaxed against the wall, turning to face him. "I would expect nothing less," he said with a smirk. 

 

"So, what? Got your knickers in a twist over the marriage law? When's your time up?" His brow arched in her direction and Hermione felt a blush spread over her chest as his eyes dipped to her cleavage and beyond. 

 

Trying to avoid his roaming eyes and the way that made her feel in her belly, she turned her attention back to the scene outside the window. "December." 

 

"Soon." 

 

"Too soon," she agreed, swallowing a knot in the base of her throat. A change of subject would be best. "What kind of life choices are you contemplating?"

 

"Oh, all sorts." Draco moved to stand next to her, then promptly slid to the floor and reaching for the bottle. Hermione handed it over and joined him on the floor, their shoulders barely brushing. He took a long pull and looked over his shoulder at the oversized Orrery taking up the majority of the space. "The last time I was up here was ten years ago, you know."

 

Her stomach clenched and then plummeted, sinking like a stone. The Astronomy Tower. 

 

"Oh?"

 

"Yeah. I snuck up here after everything calmed down. Something happened to me that night, I think. I knew I had to change everything around and I had no idea how." His eyes misted over as he turned to stare over the ledge. "Astoria really helped, I like to think. No one would have given me a chance but she was just so — so good." Hermione's jaw felt tight as she watched the grieving wizard speak so reverently about his late-wife. "She really showed everyone that Slytherin's weren't all bad." A lone tear slid down the curve of his pale cheek and Hermione's hand shot out instinctively to rest on the crook of his arm. 

 

"I'm so sorry, Draco." The words felt tight and hot in her throat and something about bearing witness to such raw emotion filled her with a sense of longing. 

 

"Yeah," Draco chuckled darkly, bringing his shoulder to his cheek to wipe the tears away. "I don't know what's gotten over me. Sorry," he mumbled. 

 

Hermione shifted, rising onto her haunches and staring at his troubled eyes. "You don't have to apologize. You can talk about her— or anything with me. I really don't mind. Get's my mind off the patriarchy and all the burning I have yet to do." She attempted to lighten the mood and it worked briefly before the flash in his eyes returned. Hermione reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck in an uncharacteristic hug. 

 

When he didn't immediately respond; she tensed, fearing she'd gravely overstepped. As she pulled away, his hands slid around her bare back, one hand resting at her waist and the other at the nape of her neck; his hot breath tickled the thin skin there. She felt his shoulders shake as he let out a labored breath, and his face buried into her curls. 

 

Between them was grief and loss, anger and pain. It mingled in the air between them as the hug lingered on; his fingers tightening into the soft skin at her waist. Her breath hitched at the subtle touch and she slowly pulled back, their faces inches from each other. 

 

Turning his face up to her,  she lifted a trembling finger to his cheek, removing the evidence of the wayward tear. Silver eyes flickered to her parted lips and she swore that her heart began thudding like a trapped snitch. 

 

She shouldn't kiss him. That was much was obvious. He was just crying over his dead wife and not to mention, he has a son. And besides that, he's Draco-fucking-Malfoy, and that is really reason enough—

 

But then his face inched towards her, their breaths tangling together as his hand slid to wrap around the base of her jaw; his thumb sliding against her cheek. 

 

She shouldn't. 

 

"Granger," he breathed against her lips, and with that, everything else fell away. 

 

Her eyes fluttered closed as his impossibly soft lips captured hers, and she felt shock travel through her. With a tug, she fell into him, their chests crashing and they both broke out into a smile against the other's lips. 

 

She pulled back to study him, no trace of grief still lingered and the intensity swimming in silver eyes made her feel weak. 

 

He cleared his throat, his hand moving to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "I haven't— Not since before Astoria passed." Hermione watched in awe as the sharp point in Adam's apple bobbed and she felt suddenly horribly wrong for still wanting him. 

 

"We don't have to do anything if—"

 

The ‘if' seemed to be all he was waiting on and his mouth captured hers, his tongue slipping between her lips, tasting her. A soft whimper escaped as his fingers dug into her hip and ignited the frenzy between them. What was tender moments before, was now heated and desperate. Her fingers intertwined behind his neck and tugged him on top of her until she was laying flat against the cold stone. 

 

Her legs fell to the side and his knee pressed against her core as his tongue plunged deeper inside her mouth. 

 

Hermione's hands felt possessed as they roamed the planes of his chest and tore at the buttons of his trousers. 

 

Draco was everywhere. His hands slid over the curves of her body with finesse and when he gripped the hem of her dress and slid it up to her waist she gasped at the sensation of the cold air kissing her thighs. 

 

His mouth left hers, trailing kisses down the side of her jaw and along her throat. When her small hand wrapped around his cock, he let out a groan against her skin and she felt herself slicken at the vibrations it caused against her neck. 

 

"Draco," she pleaded, pumping him once, twice, three times. 

 

He shifted, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her soaked knickers. His digit hitched in the seam and pulled it to side. With a shimmy of his hips, his trousers fell marginally and he poised himself at her entrance. 

 

His eyes found hers one last time, his lips bee-stung and pupils blow wide. "Are you su—"

 

She rolled her eyes and her hands settled on his hips, pulling him into her as her back arched off the stone. She keened softly as he filled her and his eyes never left her face, even as her lids fluttered shut in pleasure. 

 

Draco slid in and out of her, earning breathy little moans every time he rocked his hips against her clit. He supported the weight of himself on one elbow just so he could pull at the straps of her dress and expose her chest, basked in the soft moonlight. 

 

He mumbled something unintelligible as he curved his spine to pepper kisses on her breasts, running a flat tongue across her nipple before flicking it with the tip. 

 

She cried out then, hitching her hips up higher and feeling the silky material of her dress slide further up. The same hand that was busy fondling her breasts, drifted between them to rub furiously against her clit as he quickened his speed.

 

Hermione could feel the quickening in the walls of her sex and clawed at him in way of warning. A hot coil tightened deep in her belly and then released; waves of pleasure rolling down her limbs, electrifying her fingertips and toes. She clung to him, trembling as he buried himself in her heat a final time, emptying into her and letting out a pleasured groan as he climaxed. 

 

Her head rolled to the side, a post-coital, slightly drunk smile playing on her mouth. 

 

There was a calmness between the two of them, as their breathing matched and slowed. But when he rolled off of her, laying on his back next to her, everything crashed down. 

 

The witches face scrunched up in a horrified grimace as she realized she had effectively taken advantage of the poor wizard's grief in order to get laid. "Fuck," she mumbled under her breath, fixing her dress to cover her ravaged body. "I'm so sorry, Draco. I shouldn't have—" 

 

She was on her feet quickly, her strappy heels now feeling wobbly after being hitched up over his hips. 

 

Draco flustered in response, messing with his trousers until he himself was covered and carding a nervous hand through his tousled hair. "Granger, if I—" 

 

"I'm really sorry. Okay? I'm a stupid, stupid witch," she chastised herself and felt hot shame cover every inch of her skin as she scurried down the stairs of the tower, ignoring the call of her name from behind her. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shall return with more chapters post hence! Hope you enjoyed it and I would love to hear your thoughts!


	3. SUMMER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated LA for Lemons Ahead

* * *

 

**JUNE**

 

* * *

 

 

 

Hermione couldn’t bear to open the owls that arrived the week following the Victory Ball. She wasn’t sure she could handle it if it was a howler, and even if it wasn’t, reading him say that he regretted their little tryst in the Astronomy Tower probably wouldn’t sit too well with her ever fragile insecurity.

 

But now it was June and she was staring at yet another birthday invitation, this one disguised in an envelope that made it seem like an interpersonal memo. Her lips pursed unpleasantly as she stared at the innocuous little piece of paper pinned to the actual invitation.

 

We do hope you can make it to celebrate Draco’s birthday.

 

Respectfully,

N. Malfoy

 

Hermione stared at the swirly calligraphy of the invitation, her forefinger tracing the lines of Draco’s name. It seemed to be another subtly over the top back yard affairs to usher the birthday boy into his twenty-ninth year.

 

She picked up her quill, the nib hovering over the ‘declines with regret’, but as she went to strike the empty box out, her hand moved of its own accord, (it seemed it liked to do that where Draco Malfoy was concerned and checked the ‘graciously accepts’.

 

The RSVP card vanished magically, back to its owner and Hermione cursed under breath, wishing she could summon it right back.

 

\-----

 

Hermione had changed her outfit exactly five times.

 

According to the very formal invitation, the dress code was casual. Then again, the dress code to Scorpius’ birthday had said casual as well… And Narcissa Malfoy had looked ready to accept the English crown immediately after.

 

She’d settled for a blush circle skirt and a cream blouse, but even as she stepped through her Floo, she thought about changing one final time.

 

\----

 

The party was, unsurprisingly, grander than Scorpius’. The gardens sprawled under the early summer heat and she couldn’t help but take a quick meander towards the fountain near the centre. Her chest was aflutter with nerves having not yet laid eyes on the man of honour and it did nothing to settle them when the Lady of the Manor found her instead.

 

“You came,” Narcissa cooed with a practiced smile, kissing both of Hermione’s cheeks with the corner of her mouth.

 

“I did.” Hermione squirmed, “Thank you for the invitation.”

 

Narcissa’s eyes flashed with something close to mischief. “You were the first person on Draco’s list you know?”

 

Hermione’s mouth fell open slightly before she slammed it shut. “Oh? Well, that was kind of him to think of inviting me. Have you been well?” She floundered, attempting to change the subject.

 

“Quite well, thank you.” Narcissa weaved her arm through the crook of Hermione’s elbow and tugged her back towards the party. “Let’s see if we can’t find that son of mine, I’m sure he’s eager to see you.”

 

“Oh— Please, Mrs Malfoy. I’m sure I’ll see him at some point— there really is no—” Hermione’s pleas fell on deaf ears as she was ushered through the tent and Draco’s side, who was currently holding his son and chatting with Harry and a somehow even more pregnant Ginny.

 

“Draco! Look who I found lurking in our rose bushes.” Mrs Malfoy’s lips curved into a wicked little smile; the cat who got the canary. Hermione gave an indelicate snort at the insinuation that she was party crashing and creeping around the Manor without invitation.

 

However, Draco’s smile faded as his eyes landed on Hermione and immediately, she regretted coming.

 

“Happy Birthday, Malfoy.” Hermione offered with an awkward smile, feeling the heat of too many eyes on her skin.

 

“Thanks. Glad you make it, Granger.” Draco’s eyes travelled along her face and she felt a hot blush stain her skin, as she remembered the way he’d moved inside her a few short weeks ago.

 

“As it is, I was just stopping by. I actually can’t stay—” Her chin raised proudly and she ignored the confused exchange of expressions of the Potters over Draco’s shoulder.

 

“Well, in that case. Mum, would you?” He offered Scorpius to his mother who was beaming with a keen sparkle in her eye. “Granger, let me steal you for a drink before you have to leave.”

 

“Oh—” She started to argue but his hand scorched into her lower back as he led her towards the bar.

 

Draco obtained two glasses of white wine and without another word, walked her back towards the fountain in the centre of the garden.

 

She took her glass greedily, sucking it down until she was sure she could feel the rush of it hit her bloodstream.

 

“You’re a hard witch to track down,” Draco’s eyes narrowed at her from a few paces away.

 

“Me?” she asked, her eyes wide in faux innocence.

 

“I sent exactly six owls after the Victory Ball. All returned— unopened. I’d started to fear something truly terrible had befallen you— but, alas, you were just avoiding me.”

 

Hermione’s eyes lowered and she let out an embarrassed little puff of air. “I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t the most mature thing I’ve ever done. I just felt so terrible for what I’d done to you—”

 

“Shagged me?” Malfoy’s brow arched high on his forehead and she could see the little smirk threatening to spread across his face.

 

“Well, shagging you when you were feeling vulnerable.” Her jaw tightened and she refused to meet his gaze. “I was angry and sad and— I don’t know what came over me. But I swear, I never intended to take advantage of you in any way. I hope you can forgive me.” Hermione swallowed the sticky in her throat and tried to fight off the shameful teras that wanted to make a dazzling debut.

 

“Granger.” Draco’s voice was low as he took a few cautious steps towards her. “I do not think anything you just said is remotely factual, which is surprising, coming from you.

 

Her eyes flickered up nervously, only to dart away to the fountain before she could lock gazes with him.

 

“It was inappropriate and probably a bit sloppy of me. I wouldn’t blame you for being cross with me.” Her lips pressed together in a pout as her hands wound up to tuck a curl back in her ponytail. She’d never felt such horror at talking with Malfoy, and there had been plenty of terrible experiences to draw on.

 

Draco barked out a laugh that she was sure she’d never heard before and finally, her eyes fell on the amused lines of his face. “I only sent those owls so I could see if you wanted to go to dinner, Granger.

 

Hermione balked at the blond wizard who was now standing far closer than he was moments ago. “To dinner?” her eyes narrowed skeptically. “With whom?”

 

“That should be obvious.”

 

It seemed obvious. It also seemed improbable and she shook her head. “It’s not, so say it.”

 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he cocked his head smugly to the side. “Granger,” he purred. “Will you go on a date with me?”

 

Hermione’s brows fell lower, she was sure she was on the verge of scowling. “Why?”

 

“Mostly, because you don’t seem as awful as you were during school,” he teased with a crooked smile.

 

She glowered at him.

 

“Listen, I get it,” he continued. “I come with more baggage than the luggage car on the Hogwarts Express. I’m a widower with a very small child and an obscenely meddling mother. I get it if that’s too much for you. But, I liked talking with you at Scorp’s party and I liked even more what we did at the Victory Ball.” His cheshire grin widened. “And to put it simply, I haven’t liked talking with a woman in over a year. I’m not looking for a mother for my son or a wife of the Manor. There are no strings.”

 

Hermione chewed a hole in her lip as she studied him. He seemed honest enough, although there was still some residual insecurities from… well, from her life. “Just dinner?”  

 

Draco’s face got serious and he crossed his forefinger over his heart in a little ‘X’.

 

A smile flickered over her features and she conceded. “Okay. Dinner, then.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**JULY**

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’d been four dates.

 

Well, two dinners, one lunch and a cup of tea after strolling through his library at the Manor.

 

There have also been two over the top floral arrangements that have arrived on her desk at the Ministry, each one causing an ear-splitting grin on Hermione’s face.

 

That is until the second one arrived with her official letter from the Ministry.

 

Dear Miss Granger,

 

Hope this letter finds you well. Our records note that you have not yet filed your valid Marriage License with the Clerk’s Office.

 

A friendly reminder that your age bracket is expected to file by the end of the year or the Ministry will assign you a—

 

Hermione could read no further. With a flick of her wrist, the innocent little memo folded itself into a paper airplane and lifted off her desk before nose-diving into the wastebasket. She then pointed the tip of her wand at the basket and the memo burst into flames with a firm, “Incendio.”

 

\-----

 

Flipping through a stack of references in the Ministry’s library, she felt the fine hairs on her arms stand at attention. Soft footsteps fell behind her and when the subtle scent of cedar and bergamot wafted through the air, her cheeks tugged up.

 

His chest brushed against her back and his head tilted over her shoulder. “You’re just so utterly predictable.”

 

“Excuse me?” she scoffed, throwing a wayward elbow into his ribs.

 

“If I’m ever looking for you, I know just to head the room with the most books.” His fingers trailed along her forearm and she nudged back into him playfully.  “What are you doing tonight?”

 

“Reading.” Her answer was quick, no hesitation even as he brushed the curls from her shoulder.

 

His lips turned into a frown. “You’re always reading. Have dinner with me instead.”

 

“Eh.” Her nose wrinkled as she toyed with him.

 

“What if I let you read at the table?”

 

Hermione laughed, turning into his arms and staring up at him with all the starry-eyed wonder of new love. “Now you’re talking.”

 

“I was thinking Scorp could join us tonight.”

 

Hermione stiffened in his arms, her eyes darting to their feet. “Oh?”

 

For the few weeks they had spent together, Scorpius had been conveniently absent for each date. Draco talked fondly of him, sparing no detail about the mayhem he caused around the Manor and Hermione listened in rapture, adoring the sweet details of their day. But she wasn’t sure where this was headed— if it was headed anywhere at all.

 

Releasing the tight breath that pinched her lungs, Hermione withdrew from his embrace. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for that? What if—” Her throat felt tight at the words about to tumble from her lips. “What if we don’t work out? Aren’t two broken hearts better than three?”

 

Draco’s features darkened as took a tentative step forward, afraid she might be a spook-easy and run for the lifts. “Hermione, there’s no pressure. But— if I can be so bold — thing seems to be going well between us.” Another step.

 

Hermione bit back a smile as his hands cupped her cheeks, turning her face up to look at him.

 

“And, if I’m not mistaken— you agree?”

 

“Eh.” She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his slender waist.

 

“If you want to wait for the Scorp part of my life, that’s fine. But, I don’t want it to get confused that I am in any way keeping you from him, okay?”

 

Hermione studied the intensity in his gray eyes and= a wave of relief washed over her. Their relationship was still so young that even though Hermione thought it was going splendidly, she tried very hard not to get her hopes up.

 

But here he was; offering hope.

 

Worrying a hole in her lip, she came to a sound decision and stated it with a firm nod. “Let’s do it. With Scorp, that is. I’d love to get to know him.”

 

Draco’s lips broke into a grin and he pressed his lips to her quickly. “Okay, Floo to the Manor after work!”

 

Her mouth attempted to make words as Draco retreated through the stacks but it failed; instead making various shapes as he slipped away.

 

The Manor?

 

What was the phrase her mother always used? Oh yes: baptism by fire.

 

————

 

Stepping through the Floo into the Manor, Hermione shook the soot from her hair and patted at her white sundress.

 

“Miss Granger.”

 

Hermione jumped, nearly toppling over a cloak rack. “What the fu—“ The expletive died in her throat as her eyes fixated on Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, joined at the elbows and standing with all the practiced posture of a marble column.

 

Lucius’ grey eyes narrowed infinitesimally and Narcissa’s feline-esque smile spread neatly on her lips. “Welcome.” Narcissa dipped her chin in a formal greeting and Hermione curtseyed in response.

 

She fucking curtseyed.

 

Realising her error she grimaced and stood straight, raising her chin proudly and pursing her lips.

 

Hermione Granger had faced trolls, giants, and dragons in her youth. Still, nothing felt quite as terrifying as staring at the elder Malfoys.

 

Hermione didn’t miss the subtle nudge of Lady Malfoy’s elbow into her husband's ribs. “How are you Miss Granger?” Lucius managed through a tight jaw.

 

“Um—“

 

“Pray tell, how is one ‘um’?”

 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed into slits at the elder Malfoy. “I’m doing brilliantly, Mister Malfoy. I’m just looking for Draco, we’re meant to have dinner.”

 

As if by magic, Draco strode through the doors to the parlour, sporting a happy grin — that is until his gaze fell on the backs of his parents.

 

“Mother, Father, I do hope you’re being on your best behaviour.” Draco stepped up to his mother first, who offered her cheek and her son placed a kiss there before making his way to Hermione’s side.

 

As his hand rested on the curve of her lower back, Hermione let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding onto.

 

“We always are.” Narcissa cooed, watching the casual touch between the two of them with a conspiratorial smirk. “Are you dining with us this evening, dear?”

 

Hermione’s heart plummeted and flopped like a fish at the bottom of her belly as her eyes darted between the couple in front of her.

 

“Not tonight, Mother. Maybe another night.” Draco’s fingers curled around her hip and Hermione’s breath hitched.

 

“Pity,” Narcissa clucked. “Hermione, won’t you join me for tea sometime? I’ve heard you’re quite the bibliophile and I’ve been meaning to spend some more time reading this summer. Perhaps I could pick your brain?”

 

Hermione’s mouth ran dry as excuse after shitty excuse shriveled on her tongue. Finally, after a painfully long time and one throat clearing cough from Draco, she agreed.

 

“Brilliant! I’ll owl you some available dates. Have a pleasant evening.” The pair of them nodded their heads and Hermione fought every instinct not to curtseyed again.

 

Once the door was quietly shut behind them, Hermione groaned and buried her face in Draco’s chest. “Why are they so scary?”

 

Draco chuckled, rubbing his hands up and down her arms and placing a kiss on her forehead. “If you figure it out, please let me know.”

 

Threading their fingers together, Draco led her through the grand double doors behind them framed by a wall of windows that filled the room with bright light. They walked together in silence, and Hermione rested her head on his shoulder as they followed the curling stone trail through the blooming gardens.

 

Idly, Hermione noted silently that she’d never been this far into the Malfoy gardens and when the shrubbery broke way into a large clearing, she gasped at the sight before her. An enormous white gazebo sat perched in the middle of the lawn, which was outlined with small trees covered in white floral blooms.

 

From the corner of his eye, Draco peered down at her and Hermione couldn’t help the wonder spread over her features.

 

“This is stunning, Draco. I’m speechless… which as you know is rare.” Her lips quirked up playfully and Draco stepped behind her and draped his arms over her shoulders. “Is Scorpius still coming?” Her voice rose several octaves as her nerves tangled in her ribs.

 

“As long as that’s all right with you,” Draco said, resting his chin on her curls. “I thought we might have a drink first just us; he can join us for dinner and then Poppy can manage bedtime.”

 

Hermione nodded, grateful for the offer of a drink and followed dutifully when Draco led to her a bench just outside the gazebo, summoning two glasses of wine. The idea of spending the evening with Scorpius wasn’t all too frightful, all things considered, but Hermione just wasn’t sure if she was meant to be a mother. There were still adventures to be had and a passport to fill; something about a tiny, squawking nursling seemed to be in conflict with those dreams.

 

The biggest bullet point on her ever-growing to-do list: the Minister’s chair. She was exactly ten years away from being able to announce her candidacy and once that office was hers, she would be able to make real changes. She just had to get there. Motherhood felt like one more obstacle in the way and she had enough of those to overcome on her own, thank you very much.

 

She had pondered until the wee hours of the morning if that was something she ought to share with Draco— or any man she began a romantic relationship with for that matter. Was there ever really a good time? How did one blurt after exactly four — now five — dates that she might not want to bear children. If she announced it too early, she was a psychopath; announced it too late, and she’d been leading him on.

 

Draco tucked her into his side and they watched the swallows sweep from tree to tree for a few moments before one of them spoke.

 

“Scorpius really is a good kid. I think you’ll get on great— you don’t need to worry.” Draco pressed his lips to her temple and she gulped.

 

“I have no reservations about whether I will like him. I just worry he might not like me and I don’t—” The words she so desperately wanted to speak caught in her throat and tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. “I don’t know. It’s just so complicated.”

 

Draco set his wineglass on the table and curled his hand under her jaw, lifting her heart-shaped face to his. “If this is too much—”

 

Hermione’s lips crashed onto his before he could speak the nonsense she was sure he was about to spout. As their lips brushed against each other, she felt her intrinsic magic lift the ends of curls and spark behind her lids; something about the way his tongue brushed ever so quickly against hers awoke the power inside her. Her hand slid around the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into their kiss. They hadn’t kissed like this since that fateful night on the Astronomy Tower and something heated and instinctual tore at her insides when his hand slid to her waist. She arched into him and just when a whimper was about to escape the corner of her mouth she heard a tiny little giggle accompanied by a husky cough.

 

The couple tore away from each, shooting to opposite ends of the bench and Hermione felt a shameful blush stain her neck and face. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Poppy (who looked mortified at having interrupted) and Scorpius who was barreling towards his father on wobbly, chubby little legs.

 

“Dada!”

 

“Oh, there’s my buddy!” Draco threw a wink of his shoulder and quickly adjusted his trousers before scooping up his son and tossing him quickly in the air. “This is Her-my-oh-nee.” Draco enunciated slowly. However, it fell on deaf ears when Scorpius made a small gurgling noise in response.

 

“Poppy is so sorry, sir.” The house elf’s ears were downturned and her large doe eyes were fringed with unshed tears. “It’s just that you says I should bring young master Scorpius out at seven o’clock and Poppy was just—”

 

Draco cleared his throat and shifted his son in his arms, his cheeks were twinged a light pink and Hermione found that as much as she enjoyed brooding and snark Draco, she equally enjoyed chuffed Draco.

 

“It’s just that Poppy was unaware that you and the lovely Miss Granger would be attempting to have s—”

 

Hermione barked out a laugh as her cheeks flamed, her hands shooting up to stifle the giggles that were tumbling past her fingers.

 

“Poppy! We most certainly were not— we weren’t doing what you think. I was just checking… her mouth.” Draco’s face screwed up at the horribly thought out lie and Hermione shook with silent laughter at his side.

 

Poppy’s eyes grew wide in concern and her gaze darted from Draco to Hermione… and then back to Draco. “Her mouth? Should Poppy fetch a healer, Master Draco?”

 

“No!” Draco blurted. “No, Poppy. I’ve— I’ve sufficiently checked her. She’s alright.” Draco groaned and dragged his hand over his face. “We are ready for dinner, Poppy. Thank you.”

 

Poppy seemed the farthest from convinced but curtseyed (causing an additional wave of horror to wash over Hermione as she remembered the inelegant little bow she’d offered the Malfoy’s earlier) and vanished with a crack.

 

Scorpius’ chubby little fingers explored his father’s face, tugging on his lips and ears and crushing his face against his dads in a sloppy attempt at a kiss. Hermione chuckled and when Scorpius noticed the witch sitting next to them, immediately crawled into her lap and yanked at her curls.

 

“Scorp, no!” Draco chastised, untangling her hair from his fingers and Hermione watched in horror as the child’s face crumpled with displeasure at being scolded. Fat tears welled in his eyes and his mouth formed a downturned grimace before he buried his face in Hermione’s chest and wept.

 

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed and awkwardly rubbed the child’s back. “Do you think he wants you?” she asked with a grimace.

 

‘He’s just a little dramatic. I’ve no idea where he gets it.”

 

Hermione audibly scoffed. “Says the boy who almost had a hippogriff beheaded because he thought his arm was going to fall off.”

 

“That animal should not have been on school property—”

 

What Hermione had intended as a playful jab and suddenly swelled into a bickering match.

“As true as that may be, it wasn’t Buckbeak’s choice to attend Care of Magical Creatures that day and he certainly shouldn’t have paid with his life—” “So the Governors should allow a dangerous animal who attacked a student—”

 

“A student who didn’t listen to the very simple instructions—”

 

“A student that had to be  shamefully carried like a child by his teacher all the way to the infirmary, might I add—”

 

“Oh please! It was a scratch!”

 

“It was fractured!”

 

Scorpius giggled then and both of their attentions were brought to wide-eyed stare of the child still nestled in Hermione’s arms.

 

They shared a chagrined look and Draco closed the short distance between them to kiss Hermione’s temple. “Agree to disagree?”

 

“Agreed. Except for the fact that you are dramatic, I demand you agree to that bit.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Agreed. Let’s eat.”

 

They had dinner in the gazebo as the late summer sun went down; a lovely arugula and strawberry salad with goat cheese followed by chilled chocolate mousse, which Scorpius was completely covered with by the end of the meal.

 

Throughout the evening, Hermione watched in wonder as Draco glided easily through parenthood. The two of them had a language that she was sure she’d never speak, and somewhere deep in her, she felt a guilt settle.

 

When Scorpius’s chubby little hand began digging in his lidded little eyes, Draco called for Poppy. “I think he’s ready for bed. Would you mind handling bedtime tonight?”

 

“Of course, Master Draco!” Poppy held her arms out for the toddler and Draco cast a cleaning charm on the boy before pulling him from the highchair.

 

Draco placed a few kisses on his son’s cheek before whispering something in his ear and handing him off to Poppy. “Goodnight, Scorp. I love you.”

 

“Luhlooo.” Scorpius’ flat hand came up to his lips and pulled away quickly; he was blowing a kiss.

 

Hermione’s heart fluttered when Draco returned the gesture.

 

“How about a nightcap?” Draco’s brow arched over the table at her and Hermione thought that she really shouldn’t… She’d already had a fair amount of wine to quell her nerves but something in the fire behind his eyes and before she knew it, she was nodding yes.

 

Draco stood from the table and made the few steps to pull her chair out for her. “I’ve got the good stuff in my study. If you don’t mind heading inside?” Draco’s hand fell just a touch lower than it had in the parlour earlier, his fingers brushing over the curve of her bum and he was standing so close that she could smell the cologne that still lingered on his white oxford.

 

She swayed under the intoxicating scent and righted herself by placing her palm in the center of his chest. Peering up at him, she nodded and he wrapped her in his arms, one hand curling over her bum and kissed her deeply, before apparating them to the second floor of the Manor.

 

Hermione broke the kiss, her eyes fluttering as she took in the suddenly new surroundings. His study was larger than her flat and two of the four walls were covered with books and posh knick-knacks. His desk was immaculate and Hermione blushed as she thought of the state of her own desk at the Ministry. Walking away from him, she let her fingers trail behind her along the glossy edges of his desk, spinning the golden globe on the corner and then perching near his chair.

 

“This is a nice office,” she mused, plucking a quill from its holder and sliding it through her fingers.

 

Draco followed her around the desk and settled in front of her. “The drink carts behind you,” he said, voice husky.

 

Hermione returned the quill to its place so her fingers wander over the flat planes of this chest and trace the buttons lining the center of his shirt. She tilted her face up towards his, moving her hands to glide over his shoulders, twisting in this soft hair and drawing his face towards her until they were just a breath away from touching. “Suddenly I’m not that thirsty,” she breathed over his lips and when it elicited a little groan from the back of his throat, she smiled against his mouth.

 

They devoured each other with hungry nips and sucks. Hermione gasped when his hands found her bum and lifted her effortlessly onto his desk so he could settle between her thighs. His lips left hers and trailed a scorched path down her jaw and to the top of her breasts.

 

Hermione’s head fell back until she was staring at the tray small chandelier above them while his hands slid up the top of her thighs and pooled the fabric of her dress at her hips. Why had they waited so long to do this again? Surely there must have been a reason, but right now all she could think about was the way he slid in and out of her on the floor of the astronomy tower.

 

When he pressed his erection into the apex of her thighs she let out a moan and shot to her feet. Startled, Draco took a step back and tripped into the chair behind him. Hermione wasted no time in hiking up her skirt and straddling his lap, grinding into him as his hands slid up her spine, tugging at the sleeves of her dress until her shoulders were exposed.

 

He laved wet kisses along the smattering of freckles there and her arms curled around his neck as she rocked against the length of him. Her wanton behaviour would, any other circumstance, be mortifying; but right now everything in her was desperate and needy. Her fingers slid the buttons of his shirt free and she was finally able to marvel at the smoothness of his torso.

 

His hands slid over her breasts palming them briefly before finding her hips and assisting her in rocking against him. Their lips locked together again and they drank each other in as they sat tangled in his desk chair.

 

“Room,” he mumbled against her lips and stood, wrapping her legs around his waist.

 

Panting through her bee-stung lips she pulled back. “What’s wrong with here?” Hermione was on the verge of whining and she was not a witch who whined when sex was delayed— well unless that sex was with this stupidly handsome wizard who seemed ready to rip this dress from her body, in that case, she whined.

 

“The first time was on the floor,” he laughed darkly. “You deserve a bed.”

 

She barely registered they had Apparated, not until she was falling back onto the silky duvet of his large bed, his arms caged on either side of his head as he hovered over her. “Better right?”

 

Hermione couldn’t be bothered to respond as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders and her hand slid down the taut, lean muscles of his stomach. With a reckless sort of abandon she pulled his belt from its latch and reached into his trousers to grip the length of him, she watched through lidded eyes as his features flickered and his lips parted. He pressed into her hand and a small grunt sounded from the back of his throat.

 

He collapsed on top of her as he fucked her hand for a few thrusts. “I want to see you—” he breathed against the sensitive skin under her jaw and begrudgingly removed himself from her touch. He shrugged from his trousers but rearranged his pants so he was covered.

 

With a hesitant gulp, she stood next to him and scooped the hair from her shoulders. His cool fingers slid the zipper down her back, one finger trailing the curve of her spine and causing a shiver to run through her. The dress she’d chosen for the night slipped from her frame and fell in a cascade at her feet, left only her matching undergarments were a shade of pale pink.

 

Draco’s hands gripped her hips and dragged her arse against his rigid cock and she gasped at the way the tips of his fingers dug into her. With her still pressed flush angst him, one hand slid up her torso and fondled her breast and the other slid down, cupping her mound over her knickers and rubbing furiously until her head fell back and her jaw went slack. “You’re beautiful. Do you know that?”

 

Draco’s digit traced her soaked folds over the lacy material and he teased her opening, unable to press in. Hermione was nearing the point of unraveling and they hadn’t even really started anything yet. He pulled the cup of her bra down and her breast was freed, he plucked and tugged at her nipple until she was panting.

 

Unable to stand it another minute, she turned in his arms and felt his cock press against her belly. His eyes were normally the most lovely shade of silver but now they looked like a cluster of storm clouds, dark and brimming with intensity. His hands never stopped roaming the curves of her body, and when he filled his hands with her arse his teeth cut dangerously into his lip and pressed her backward on the bed.  

 

She was braced for the impact of his lips on hers, ready for the feeling of his body to weigh her down but it never came. She instead felt the brushing of his mouth against the side of her knee, then a few inches up against her thigh and when his nose dragged closer towards her centre, Hermione whimpered.

 

Her hands slid down and tangled in his hair and when his tongue dragged over her soaked knickers, her back arched off the mattress and her thighs involuntarily tightened. She could feel him smile against her sex. He hooked his fingers on the seams and slid them from her thighs and Hermione felt a wave of insecurity.

 

He wasted no time in licking her slit, his tongue flicking at her sensitive bud and then pressing inside her with two long fingers.

 

Her chest felt hot and fevered as he gently pressed her thighs farther open. He laved at her until she was fighting the hold he had on her quivering legs and the room was filled with her moans.

 

A hot coil wound deep in her belly and as a delicious sensation climbed up her spine and down her limbs, her lower back arched off the mattress and she cried out, tangling her fingers in her hair. As her orgasm faded from her body she was left panting and melted into the duvet. Her body hummed as he crawled over her and when she felt the heat of his head at her slit, her hands tugged him further in.

 

He sank into her, his face pulled tightly as he hilted himself inside her. “Fuck,” he cursed, but it sounded more like a praise. They moved together like they’d been doing it for a decade, revelling in every touch, in every kiss.

 

Hermione could feel the tease of pressure on her clit and it was near maddening. One leg hitched over his hip and she flipped them in a swift movement until she was hovering over him. She reached between them and gripped him until he was again at her entrance and then filled herself with the length of him.

 

Her head rolled back as she sat fully, rocking her hips until her clit was deliciously being attended to by his pelvic bone. Breathy little moans filled his room and he never ceased mumbling her praises and letting his hands roam the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, even the lines of her throat.

 

Her rocking became near frantic as her walls squeezed him and he let his hands fall to her hips where he helped her set a pace that quickly toppled her over the edge. Even as her fingers curled into his chest and her body went slightly rigid from the pleasure coursing through her, she could feel his eyes on her; watching as she came undone on top of him. He followed soon after, , grunting and clenching his eyes closed as he emptied into her.

 

With heavy pants, she collapsed on top of him, sliding off his member and resting her curls on his shoulder. The last time they’d done this, she’d scurried off before anything else could be said, but this time, she wanted nothing else other than to fall asleep to the soft lullaby of his heartbeat against her cheek.

 

His fingers trailed long lazy lines over her bare back and she felt her eyes flicker closed.

 -----

She woke with a start, sweating from the unexpected body behind her. Their arms and legs were twisted with the duvet and they were still laughing sideways on the bed. Hermione took stock of her surroundings and her eyes settled in the darkness on the clock on the wall. Two o’clock in the morning.

 

How in the hell was she going to get out of the Manor at this hour? She shook Draco awake who blinked through a half scrunched expression at her.

 

“Granger? What time is it?” His arm tightened around her waist, one hand curling the underside of her breast and she nearly scowled, especially when she felt his cock twitch against her bum.

 

“It’s very late. We fell asleep and I’ve no idea how to get to the Parlour Floo without several dozen portraits alerting your parents of my lurking. You’ll need to Apparate me.”

 

“Why would I do that?” He shimmied until he was, somehow, impossibly closer and his now stiff length slid between her thighs, skimming her entrance.

 

“Draco Malfoy! If your parents catch me here—”

 

“Shhh.” His thumb ran lightly over her nipple and then down towards her thigh, where he parted her legs for himself. “Do you have any idea how rich we are? This house is enormous and littered with silencing charms. Feel free to scream until your throat gives out, Granger.”

 

She could feel her wetness soaking him and her fingers curled in the sheets as he glided over her sex.

 

“Stay with me,” he whispered in her curls and her eyes clenched shut because really she should say no. It was just asking for trouble.

 

“Draco…”

 

“I’ll sneak you out in the morning, Granger. Just stay. This bed will be too cold if you’re gone.”

 

Her hips rocked against him and she adjusted until he the tip of his cock was brushing inside her.

 

“Yes,” she breathed and he filled her once more. Fucking her with a slow, torturous rhythm that made her writhe until he flicked his hands rubbed at her clit while he ground into her.

 

He came moments later and they fell asleep in the exact same position in which she had awoken just fifteen minutes before, both with a contented smile on their face.

 

\-----

 

The sun streamed through the giant windows and Hermione woke for the second time with the heat from the morning warming her bare chest.

 

She stretched the sleep from her bones and turned in Draco’s embrace, curling against him and studying his resting features. He was a handsome man on any given day, but she found that he was extremely pleasant to look at when his face wasn’t screwed up with a snarky retort.

 

Careful not to startle him, her fingers traced the lines of his cheekbone and down his jaw and unable to stand it another minute, she pressed a small kiss against his lips. He stirred then, kissing her back and blinking awake.

 

“Twice in one night and you still can’t get enough, huh, Granger?” He smirked as he rolled on top of her, his fingers lightly tickling her sides until she was squirming and giggling under him.

 

“You’re such a prat—” Her giggling died away as his lips pressed against her cheek.

 

“Yeah, a prat you want to have sex with though. And I think that might be the best kind of prat to be.”

 

The door creaked open and Hermione’s eyes shot open, wide and horrified.

 

Draco rolled off her. “Fuck!”

 

Hermione shot up in surprise and she was met with the large curious expression of Poppy, holding hands with a giggling Scorpius. Draco growled and handed her a corner of his duvet so she might more properly cover herself and she slammed her body against the mattress; a hot blush spreading from her hairline to her toes.

 

“Oh no,” Poppy mumbled. “Was you checking Miss Granger again, sir? Poppy is sorry but you said you bring young master Scorpius in the morning so you could go to the circus. Is you remembering, Master?”

 

Hermione stifled a giggle as she planted her hands over her mouth.

 

“Does Miss Granger need a healer now?” Poppy asked over the cooing of Scorpius trying to climb in bed. “I could fetch the—”

 

“Fucking hells,” Draco muttered under his breath. “Poppy, Miss Granger is quite all right. Could you please take Scorpius for breakfast and I’ll be done in a moment. Do not mention this to Master and Mistress. Are we understood?”

 

“Y-yes, Master!”

 

“Dada!” Scorpius was starting to get impatient and Draco scooted towards the end of the bed to give him a quick kiss.

 

“Go eat, bud. I’ll be right there and we will go to the circus. Okay?”

 

Hermione rolled onto her side, still shaking in humiliated laughter as Draco fell onto his back next to her.

 

“Does ‘I’m sorry’ even begin to cover it?” Draco buried his face in his hands and Hermione’s fingers lifted to run down the valley of muscle between his pecks.

 

“It’s a start,” she offered with a smile.

 

With an exhausted sigh, Draco’s face lolled to hers. “Do you like the circus?”

 

Hermione thought for a long moment, studying his hopeful expression and feeling something deep in her bones that urged her to follow its lead. It was complicated and messy and so confusing.

 

But she still wanted it— wanted him.

 

She nodded in agreement and when she was met with a face-splitting grin, she couldn’t help but return it.

  
  


 

* * *

 

**AUGUST**

 

* * *

 

 

In the middle of July, Ginny gave birth to a beautiful, pink-cheeked baby named James Sirius Potter. Hermione, not being one for babies, had swooned at the sight of him. He was just so incredibly small, and warm and gods, the smell. Hermione always scowled at people who sniffed babies but for the first few weeks of his life, Hermione stole a whiff whenever possible. He smelled like goodness and innocence all wrapped into a tiny swaddle.

 

Hermione, Draco, and Scorpius had brought takeaway to Grimmauld, and while the rest of the family picked over the white cartons of Chinese food, Hermione sat in rapture near the fringe, staring at the sleeping baby in her arms.

 

“He’s pretty great, huh?” Harry grinned, leaning on the wall next to her and popping a piece of sesame chicken in his mouth.

 

“I know I say this every time, but he gets more and more perfect every day. How can he possibly get cuter than three days ago?” Her knuckle softly traced the curve of his rounded cheek and Hermione couldn’t help the grin that followed.

 

Harry swallowed and pierced a piece broccoli with his fork. “Still think you don’t want kids?”

 

Hermione shifted the baby in arms and stared down at him furrowed brows. “I just don’t know I’d be any good at it—”

 

“See, Scorp,” Draco said, suddenly behind her. “It’s just a baby. Can you say baby?”

 

“Bayybee, no! My Minnie.” Scorpius reached his little hands towards Hermione opening and closing his fists and glaring at the tiny infant in her arms.

 

“It seems Scorpius has claimed you as his own,” Draco laughed. “He’s been staring daggers at that poor baby since you picked him up.”

 

“Must be written in the stars; Malfoy’s and Potter’s: forever at war.” Harry chuckled as he pushed the food around his plate.

 

Hermione’s eyes locked on the blond baby reaching for her and she felt a knot settle in her throat.

 

“See, Hermione— I don’t know why you think you’d be rubbish at being a Mother. Scorpius seems to take to you,” Harry pointed out.

 

A sheen of sweat broke out over Hermione’s hairline and she felt her heart sputter and falter in her chest. The anxiety of where this conversation was headed was overwhelming.

 

“Of course, you’ll be brilliant at it, love. Why would you ever think otherwise? I mean, I thought I’d be rubbish but it’s different you know when they’re your own kid.”

 

“Hermione doesn’t want kids,” Harry said with a half-chewed piece of eggroll rolling around his mouth and the three of them froze. Harry having realised his mistake, Draco in shock and Hermione in complete and utter horror.

 

Draco’s brows fell low over his cloudy eyes. “You don’t want kids?”

 

“W-well—” Hermione stuttered, rearranging the baby in the crook of her arm.

 

“You know,” Harry swallowed, eyes bulging behind his smudged glasses. “I think James needs a diaper change. I better, uh… I better go do that.” With a flick of his wand, Harry hovered his plate and took James from Hermione’s arms, offering an apologetic grimace as she was left with the Malfoy’s.

 

“It’s not that I don’t like kids, of course,” Hermione assured him, taking Scorpius into her arms and perching him on her hip. “I just don’t know if it’s in my life plan to have kids. There’s still so much to do— so much patriarchy to burn.” She gave a hollow laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

  
Draco’s expression was unreadable.

 

“My Minnie,” Scorpius cooed, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

 

\-----

 

Towards the end of the night, the family migrated outside over a pitcher of sangria and a bonfire roaring in a hearth.

 

Scorpius sat in the grass a few feet away, playing with a few small toys the Potters had brought out and Draco sat brooding over the flickering flame.

 

Hermione filled her glass and made her way to share his bench, not daring to touch him. “Are you cross with me?”

 

“Hmm?” Draco blinked, seeming to come out of a trance. “Oh, no. Of course not.”

 

Hermione’s insecurities thrashed against her skin and she felt like at any moment traitorous tears would spill over. “You’ve just— well you’ve been a little distant since before when Harry said that.”

 

“Oh, no love. It’s not— I understand. I’m just, well—” Draco uncharacteristically stuttered and then rubbed his hand over his face. “I’ve just found myself somewhere I never in a million years thought I’d be. Astoria and I married so young and while I didn’t really expect to fall in love with her— I did. She would have been a brilliant mother,” he said smiling crookedly at the space between his feet. “Sometimes I look at Scorpius and I wonder if I’m doing him a disservice if it just stayed the two of us. But I really thought I’d be enough.”

 

There it was, the lone tear to break through her defenses and she wiped it away furiously.

 

“But then I just kinda crashed into you without meaning to and I know this might not be what you want to hear, but I think I’m falling in love with you.” Draco’s hands rung nervously in front of him; his voice was thick in the glow in the fire. “But I’m a package deal. And if you don’t want him, then I don’t—”

 

“Draco Malfoy!” She scolded through her tears. “Do not insinuate that I’m not head over heels for that boy. You know how much I love him.”

 

“I know, he’s easy to love.” Draco looked fondly at his son who was rolling around in the grass like he’d never seen it before in his life. “But I’m not and like I said, we come together.” He turned, taking her small hands in his and finally locking eyes with her. “I want this, Hermione. Want it with you. I didn’t think I was ever going to feel this way about someone again and you’ve completely turned our life on its head. But I need you to be sure that we’re what you want.”

 

“Of course you are—” Her throat felt impossibly tight. “Are you— are you breaking up with me?”

 

Draco quickly shook his head, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear and cupping her cheek. “No, I don’t think I’m capable of that at this point but, if you need to walk away, I’d rather you do it now than later. Just… think about it. All right?”

 

Hermione knew she didn’t need to think about it, she knew as soon as the thought that this thing between them might be ending first entered her consciousness that she wanted more than anything to be with him.

 

The warmth of the fire-kissed their skin and Hermione found a spot in his arms that she swore was created for her.

 

A million thoughts ran through her head but the most pressing was: would she ever be able to live up to the ghost of Astoria Malfoy?

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge, giant, infinite love to my Alpha, Beta and Friend MHCalamas. Thank you for taking the time to love this little piece and listen to all my thoughts even when it's the middle of the night where you are. You are a gem and I love you!
> 
> Biscuitsforpotter, I hope you love chapter 2!


	4. FALL

* * *

 

**September**

 

* * *

 

 

Molly had truly outdone herself this year. The long table nestled in the overgrown garden was canopied by twinkling lights and flower garlands while the table itself was stuffed with all of her favourites.

 

Hermione, never one to waste an opportunity, was standing in the midst of her party with a clipboard. She would be damned if a single red-headed Weasley escaped the evening without scrawling their name on her impeccable drafted petition.

 

Ginny had attempted to ask details about said petition but Harry had cut her off, gently reminding her that she was already married and thus unaffected by the marriage law, so sign the damn paper and save them all from Hermione’s lecture. To be fair, Harry had already heard this lecture upwards of a dozen times, but Hermione still narrowed her eyes dangerously at him and thrust the clipboard at his wife.

 

“You know, they’ll be time for that later, love.” Draco’s hand caressed the curve of her spine a few times before landing on her hip. “It is your birthday.”

 

“Yes,” she clipped, her lips pursing into a terse pout. “And for my birthday I would very much like the government not to mandate who and when I marry or become pregnant.”

 

The word pregnant caused the pair of them to tense ever so slightly. It’d been only a few weeks since their discussion at Grimmauld regarding the future of their family. Their family.

 

How in the world Hermione had found herself in conversations regarding children and marriage in the span of only a few months, was quite disconcerting. She liked to think the Ministry’s pesky little marriage law was the root of evil, but really, she knew that had nothing to do with her current predicament.

 

Her issue was that she had quite simply fallen in love. It was completely ridiculous and, not to mention, inconvenient. She had plans. There were definite, real plans in her very near future and while the pair of Malfoy boys had totally stolen her heart, it felt wrong to abandon what she’d been working towards for over ten years.

 

“Right,” Draco reassured her softly, pressing his lips to her temple and squeezing her around the middle. “Make me a copy and I’ll bring it to the office. You can consider it a birthday gift.” His fingers dug into her middle until she squirmed from the light tickle and threw a wayward elbow into him.

 

“You already spoiled me rotten,” she chastised him, her fingers drifting up to the delicate gold earrings adorning her ears.

 

“Those were from Scorp,” Draco said with a lopsided smirk. “He picked them out himself. My gift is coming later—” His pale eyebrows waggled and she chuckled, pushing him off.

 

“Look, Ron’s here,” she said with a determined glare. “He’s not yet signed. I’ll be back, alright?”

 

Hermione was storming across the lawn before Draco could say another word.

 

“‘Mione!” Ron greeted her brightly, although his brows fell upon seeing the set of her mouth. “What’d I do?”

 

“Nothing! Sign this.” She thrust her clipboard towards Ron and he coughed as it slammed against his sternum.

 

Ron’s brow quirked as he scratched his name across the parchment. “Do I want to ask?”

 

“You could, but it’s a bit long-winded.”

 

He chuckled in response, handing the clipboard back to her. “I know better than to stand in the way of Hermione Granger.” Ron gaze flickered and he kicked at the dirt, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Can we talk later? It’s— it’s important.”

 

Hermione studied the serious edge to her friend and nodded. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Of course. Just… let’s talk later?”

 

Hermione nodded but something felt decidedly off.

 

Dinner moved along, but something hung in the air around the birthday girl. During a painstakingly embarrassing series of events, every guest at the party stood from the table and shared their favourite with Hermione.

 

Clearly, no one knew Hermione at all because this was exactly the situation she would have happily avoided. When it was Draco’s turn, he stood with a wicked little smirk and announced that his favorite memory with Hermione was reminiscing at the Victory Ball on the Astronomy Tower.

 

White wine shot from Hermione’s nostrils as she sputtered and choked at Draco’s little memory and he sat down with a grin, rubbing his thumb in small circles at the nape of her neck.

 

“You’re incorrigible,” she hissed, wiping wine from her lips.

 

A sly wink graced his face. “All part of the charm, love.”

 

She rolled her eyes but pressed a quick kiss to his lips before nestling into the crook of his arm. Ron caught her gaze from the end of the table and nodded over his shoulder.

 

Hermione turned her face into Draco, resting her forehead on his cheek for a moment before looking up at him. “Ron wanted to speak to me before the night is over. I’ll be back in a moment.”

 

“Sure, love.” His lips pressed into her curls and she rose from the table, joining Ron as he lead her away from the party.

 

The silence stretched on for far past what Hermione deemed comfortable and when she turned to look at her friend, her brows tugged together. His cheeks were colored with a fiery blush and he began pacing in the soft dirt, his mouth opening, and closing as he chewed on his thoughts.

 

“Ronald!” Hermione snapped, freezing Ron in his steps. “Just... say it.” Her words were barely a breath as panic thrashed in her body. Her mind chased awful thoughts of possible terminal illness or awful betrayals.

 

Ron drug his fingers through his too long hair and growled up at the night sky. “Fuck, this is so awkward. Right, so this law. Obviously, your deadline is quickly approaching—” Hermione bared her teeth but was unable to edge a word in before he continued. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it and I want you to know—” His face screwed up in an uncomfortable thought and he resumed his frantic pacing. “You’re one of my best mates, yeah? I mean, obviously, there was that clumsy kiss and the few days after but you’ll always be one of my best mates. I want you to know… I’m here for you, ‘Mione.”

 

Hermione’s brows pulled together as she stared at him. Surely he wouldn’t be getting so worked up over simply letting her know that he had her full support… But she couldn’t seem to make sense of anything else.

 

“Ron, what are you talking about?”

 

He let out a little growl as he rubbed his face with his palms. “I’m saying I’ll marry you, Hermione.” His clear blue eyes didn’t flicker with his telltale mischief, not even for a moment.

 

“Ron—”

 

“Not… not like that. Of course, you and Malfoy are together now and I’m bloody happy for you. But, if you need to put a marriage license on file— I’m trying to tell you I’m here for you. I always will be.”

 

For one of the first times, Hermione’s brain struggled to keep up with what Ron was saying. What exactly was he offering? To be her fake husband while she continued on her public relationship with Draco? But she couldn’t.

 

Could she?

 

Hermione’s locked onto the most obscure thought that crossed her mind: Ron’s new girlfriend of only a few weeks. “What about Hannah?”

 

He snorted and closed the few steps towards her. “Hannah is wonderful but I’ve no intent on proposing anytime soon. I’m not offering you some romantic marriage here. I’m just offering you some time. Time to figure out a way around this before they match you up based on some stupid compatibility test. You’ve done so much for me, ‘Mione. Time is the least I can give you.”

 

The stabbing in her chest reduced to an ache as she stared up into the clear blue eyes of her best friend. “You're not due to file your marriage license until next year. You still have over a year…”

 

“Like I said, ‘Mione— this is for you. I won’t be heartbroken if you turn me down,” Ron laughed, wrapping his thick arms around her in a crushing hug. “But think about it. I’m here if you need me.”

 

The rest of the night passed in a blur. She lingered on the edge of the party and said vague goodbyes until it was finally time for Draco and her to return back to her flat. Scorpius stayed home with Narcissa, having already celebrated with her over pancakes with too much whip cream this morning and Draco was staying at hers tonight.

 

There was a fog around her after Ron’s bumbling offer and even though she could feel Draco’s concerned eyes on her, she couldn’t bring herself to do much more than offer a quiet smile.

 

The truth is that Ron’s offer was probably the best choice for her. She had fallen head over heels for the Malfoy boys but what was her option there? There was no possible way that Hermione was going to ask Draco to propose or marry her simply to avoid the repercussions of this bloody law.

 

But when all was said and done, time was quickly running out. There were only three months until she was required to have a marriage license on file and Ron was offering her a— surprisingly— logical solution to her problem.

 

It wouldn’t need to be a big affair. They could sign a license and saw vows in a clerk's office and the public would be none the wiser. Time was her most valuable resource and her friend was offering it to her without strings.

 

The pair of them slipped under her duvet and when Draco wrapped his arms around her shoulders, she melted into him. His lips pressed into her curls and he spoke quietly, as if she were a skittish animal. “Do you want to tell me about what Ron said?”

 

A shaky breath slipped past her lips and she hugged his arms around her. “I don’t know. It’s… complicated.”

 

The muscles of his arms tightened around her protectively. “You’re scaring me, love.”

 

Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed and she stole a fortifying breath, turning in his arms so she could look into his stormy eyes. “Ron offered me a solution to my problem.”

 

His pale brows knitted together. “Problem?”

 

“Ron offered to marry me,” Hermione said with a quiet force. Watching the flicker of realization as it settled over his features. “Not in a romantic way or anything but just… to appease the law. It’s just a way to buy me time to get this petition through to the Wizengamot.”

 

Draco’s face shifted from confusion to disbelief and he pulled back to study her. “Wait. Are you thinking about doing it?”

 

There was a small huff of air when Hermione went to speak, but nothing else came out. Was she thinking about it?

 

“I don’t know,” she confessed, burying her face in the space between his neck and shoulder. Hot tears spilled over her cheeks as overwhelming emotion settled on her chest. It wasn’t fucking fair. How could she fall for this man six months before this disgusting little law upheaved her life? “But I know I love you.”

 

Silence filled the room as his arms tightened around her, crushing her to his chest. “I love you too, Granger.”

 

 

* * *

 

**OCTOBER**

 

* * *

 

  
  
  


The cool autumn air brought with it a lingering tension between Draco and herself. There were still moments where all was well, where they were quietly lost in the ease of their relationship; but there were also moments full of strife and unsaid words.

 

After the night of her birthday party, Hermione had once again tried to bring up the topic, tried to tell him what she was thinking and explain the arguments she had stayed up all night creating… but he abruptly shut it down.

 

“Do whatever you need, Hermione,” he had said with a tight jaw. The rare use of her given name had felt like a slap and Hermione hadn’t felt comfortable broaching the topic again.

 

Ron checked in her with a week later, just assuring her that he wouldn’t in any way expect her to change her lifestyle. She could retain her flat, her last name, she could continue to date… It seemed like the perfect solution but truthfully, it didn’t feel that way at all. It felt like she was cheating by even entertaining the idea.

 

But then, what else could she do?

 

The embers in her belly roared to life as her mind chased after varying thoughts. She still had one option. Getting that damn petition before the Wizengamot by the end of the year.

 

\-----

 

With her clipboard in hand and a proud set to her jaw, Hermione stood in the center of Diagon Alley almost every hour that she wasn’t working.

 

Her friends visited her, sometimes even begrudgingly joined her, but even as they amassed signature after signature, hope still felt lost.

 

Halloween weekend brought crowds of witches and wizards to the Rugger Bugger and Seamus, dressed as a horribly cliche leprechaun, welcomed them all with black-cat shots lined up against the bar.

 

Hermione, with her ever-present petition in hand, stood near the row of stools chatting with a younger witch about the implications of the marriage law and why it was so important to take drastic action immediately.

 

The annoying little tart dressed in a sexy cat costume (because apparently sexy cats were something that Wizarding London needed to see) said that she actually quite liked the guarantee of having a husband by the time she was thirty and Hermione’s vision twinged with an enraged crimson.

 

“Do yourself a favour,” Harry interrupted with a laugh, draping an arm over his friend's shoulder. “Sign the petition. She won’t stop until you do, and you will probably leave this conversation with a bit of a verbal lashing.”

 

“H-Harry Potter?” The little blonde’s eyes grew wide in awe and Hermione scoffed before thrusting her clipboard at the young girl.

 

Lucky for the girl, she scribbled her name before making doe eyes up at the Boy Wonder, and it was Hermione’s great pleasure to inform her that Harry Potter was, indeed, married. She ended the conversation with a small lecture on the importance of being able to choose your own future and the complete sexism of forcing witches to procreate, but the dumb girl was disappearing in the crowd before Hermione finished.

 

“You’ve got to stop approaching people like that,” Harry whined. “It’s such a turn-off.”

 

“How would you suggest I do it? I’m running out of time, you know. If I want to present my case before the last session of the Wizengamot, I’ve got to gain at least another hundred and thirty signatures in the next four weeks.”

 

Harry drained the last of his pint and slammed it on the bar top. His gaze caught just over her shoulder and he raised his chin to look over her. “Seamus! Can I make an announcement?”

 

“Anything, mate,” Seamus called back while filling several drink orders at once.

 

Harry climbed onto the barstool and held out his hand for Hermione’s petition. She stared up at him with laughter spilling over her lips and handed her clipboard over. “Listen up you lot!” Harry hollered over the crowd, the chatter dulling immediately upon seeing the speaker. “If you haven’t already, come and sign Hermione’s petition. If you are so inclined to hear her speak on the subject matter, she will happily oblige. If you would prefer to enjoy your night in peace, as well as give my ears my break, please sign it and be on your way. If you have an issue with signing said parchment, please try to remember that Hermione Granger is far more intelligent than anyone in this room and if she’s fighting this hard for something, she’s probably right.”

 

Stragglers from around the bar shifted forward, eager to do anything that the great Harry Potter requested and as soon as Harry’s feet found the floor, Hermione crushed him into a hug.

 

“You probably won’t get a hundred and fifty, but that should give you a leg up,” Harry laughed, returning her hug and gesturing for a refill on his pint.

 

“What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?” Hermione asked.

 

“I could say the same for you,” Harry smirked at her. “Now, what in the bloody hell are you supposed to be?” His emerald gaze scanned her chambray shirt and red dotted bandana with a confused furrow to his brows.

 

“What? Harry, you grew up in the Muggle world. I’m Rosie Riveter.” Her hands gestured at her, seemingly, obvious costume and Harry’s gaze darkened further. “She’s a symbol of feminism,” Hermione began as a line of people formed to shake hands with Harry and sign the petition. “She was first introduced during the Second World War when the men of the country were deployed overseas and women were expected to suddenly join the workforce. So, an entire generation of women—”

 

Harry answered with a groan, dragging his hands over his face. “Merlin, Hermione. Only you could turn your Halloween costume into a history lesson.”

 

Hermione tried not to smile as she swatted at her friend, who didn’t seem to be in costume at all. “And pray tell, what are you then?”

 

“I’m Harry Potter.”

 

“What? You can’t come as yourself.”

 

“You can when yourself is Harry Potter.” He waggled his thick eyebrows behind his crooked glasses and Hermione gave him a single final push as she caught sight of Draco just beyond the line. She brushed her lips against his cheek and murmured her thanks a final time before making her way across the room.

 

“There you are,” she grinned, reaching up to kiss him.

 

“Yeah, work ran a little over. You look great,” he said with a tight-lipped smile.

 

“It was easy— and politically appropriate given the climate,” she chuckled. His returning smile didn’t touch his eyes and Hermione felt her heart constrict. She knew unequivocally that she was buggering this relationship all to hell. “I’m sorry I’ve been so caught up in all this lately. This deadline just feels like it’s taken over my life.”

 

His silver eyes moved slowly over her face, settling on each of her features as if he were memorizing her. “I understand. I mean, I don’t. Not really, since I’m unaffected by the law… but I can empathise. Not to mention that other than yourself, I think I might be the person who doesn’t want you to get married more than anyone else.”

 

She watched as the sharp point of his neck bobbed and her lips quirked up mirthlessly. “It’ll be over soon.”

  
  


 

* * *

 

**NOVEMBER**

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione’s fingers traced the valley in the center of Draco’s chest, curling into him and matching her breath to his.

 

“I want us to be okay,” she whispered in the darkness. Her breath caught as his arm tightened around him.

 

He shifted slightly, burying his face in her curls for a moment before resting his chin on the top of her head. “Me too.”

 

“Tell me what to do,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. She was one month from her deadline, that was all. She had just over four weeks to file a marriage license with the clerk and for all of her hard work, she was out of time.

 

Just that week she had filed her petition with the Wizengamot and they had assigned her a court date for December 15th, the last day of the term. Even if her motion passed, there wasn’t enough time.

 

Time.

 

The beautiful birthday gift that Ron had offered her.

 

“I love you,” he confessed and for whatever reason, this time, the words hit her with all the force of a bludger. “I love you and I meant what I said August. I’m not capable of leaving you now. What’s happening to you isn’t fair and however I can help you, I will. Even if that means accepting a legal marriage between you and Weasley.”

 

Oof. The pain in her chest intensensified, she didn’t expect that to hurt as much as it did. She didn’t know what she expected honestly, but something about Draco stepping aside tasted bitter like rejection.

 

Suddenly, something was there. Flickering to life and stealing all of her thoughts away.

 

She wanted to marry Draco Malfoy— and no one else.

 

\-----

 

As soon as the clocks read seven-thirty, the door to Draco’s bedroom flew open and Scorpius bounded onto the bed. After a few near mishaps between Poppy and scrambling to cover her naked body, Draco had set a very clear rule that no one was to enter his bedroom, except for Hermione, between the hours of eleven and seven-thirty.

 

The pair of them knew full well to be dressed and decent at exactly that time because Scorpius was always vibrating with excitement to be with them again.

 

“Minnie!” Scorpius wobbly legs stomped into the soft mattress and he toppled at the last minute as he fell into her arms.

 

“Good morning, love,” she chuckled, kissing his forehead, and brushing  blond locks from his eyes. “I think he needs a haircut, Draco.”

 

Draco stretched the sleep from his spine and threw his legs over the side of the bed. “You think? I like it a bit longer. I was thinking I could start combing it back like I used to—”

 

Hermione’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she stared at the toddler in her arms and tried to imagine him with that helmet of a hairdo that Draco had sported in his youth. “Oh…”

 

Draco’s shoulder shook with quiet laughter as he peeked back at them. “I’m kidding.”

 

She lifted Scorpius, resettling him in the crook of her arm. “Thank Merlin for that,” she said out of the corner of her mouth, poking Scorpius’ round belly until he was cackling with laughter.

 

“What’s that?” Draco called, a now mischievous glint in his eyes. “Are you trying to say that you don’t think I was quite the dashing little gentleman—”

 

Hermione barked out a laugh at that, reciting the word gentleman like it was a punchline. There were many things that Hermione would have called eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy and gentleman was simply not one of them.

 

Draco’s lips curled up into a wicked smile as he caught hold of one of her ankles and yanked her towards him. Both her and Scorpius yelped as she clung to the child and soon Draco was towering over both of them and tickling them both mercilessly.

 

“Mercy! Mercy!” Hermione managed through fits of laughter and Scorpius who was overcome with laughter, accidentally clipped his father in the groin with his heel, sending Draco onto his side with a cough.

 

With bright pink cheeks and a ghost of a laugh, Hermione sat up. “That was karma.”

 

“Dada hurt?” Scorpius crawled over and threw his body over his father's, who huffed out another harsh breath.

 

“Yes, dada hurt. Dada needs kisses.”

 

Scorpius wasted to time in kissing (albeit it was closer to licking) his father’s face and Draco held out his hand for Hermione. “You too, witch.”

 

With a chuckle and roll of her eyes, she crawled over to her hurt boyfriend and nestled on the other side of Scorpius. Reaching over, she placed a firm kiss on Draco’s lips and surprisingly his hand curled around her neck and deepened it briefly before releasing her.

 

“I love you,” he repeated his sentiments from the night before but there was something heavier in his gray eyes this morning. Like those three words were really a humble offering to all the things he couldn’t articulate.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

“Luh loo, too.” Scorpius chimed in, wrapping his chubby arms around their necks and burying his face between theirs.

 

“Love you, Scorpius,” Hermione said and burrowed closer to the Malfoy boys. She felt emotion hot in her throat as she realised just how very much. She couldn’t live without either of them and she had only a few weeks to sort out how to make that happen.

 

* * *

 

**A/N : One more season after this! Thanks to MCal for her alpha/beta prowess and I’m terribly sorry if this getting a little angstier than I originally intended, I swear I keep trying to make it fluffy! But then the angst comes back lol I hope you like it so far and a big thank you to everyone who has been reading.**

  
  
****


	5. WINTER

  


* * *

**December**

* * *

 

  


The heels of her good-luck pumps clicked on the black tile of the hall leading out of the courtroom as her chest shook, trying to calm her breath. She approached the downstairs atrium, and her lips pulled into a small smile. Standing there was a small group of cheerful faces waiting for her: Harry, Gin, Ron, Arthur and of course, Malfoy.

 

Her face betrayed nothing as she closed the space between them and stood resolutely in front of her friends, her chin held high. Ron was the first one to break the silence, eyes bright and excitement vibrating through his limbs. “Well?”

 

Hermione filled her lungs almost painfully, and let out a long breath. “I think it went well…” She allowed, a sad smile gracing her lips. “But, the motion was inconclusive.”

 

The shift between the small group was tangible and Hermione’s gaze flickered to Draco. The disappointment painted across his features gutted her. She’d failed.

 

“They’re going to review my notes and research and vote again.” Her voice cracked and she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

 

Harry spoke next, his voice low and concerned. “When?”  

 

Her watery eyes searched Draco’s expression and her mouth tightened and turned downward. “When the next session resumes. January 7th.”

  


Ron arrived via Floo that evening, wrapping her in his arms, holding her close as she wept. “It’s not over yet, ‘Mione,” he murmured again and again.

 

She wept openly, frantically swiping at her cheeks, dragging in broken little breaths. “It’s not fair, Ron. It’s not. I’m in love with him, you know? How completely ridiculous is it that I fall in love with someone I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I’m forced into a marriage with someone else?”

 

Ron scooted over on the couch, folding his hands between his knees, staring at her with that lopsided sweet smile he always saved for her. “I’m not the only option, ‘Mione. You could marry Malf—”

 

Her gaze darkened as her lips pulled back in a sneer. “Do _not_ finish that sentence.”

 

“Have you talked to him about it?”

 

The answer was ‘no’. Hermione couldn’t bring herself to bring up the idea of marriage with Malfoy, there was still much left undefined. Their relationship still existed in this beautiful little bubble where they didn’t find each other _too_ annoying; where tension could be kissed or cuddled away. But there were bigger things to consider, things like babies… or lack thereof.

 

If she asked Malfoy to marry her, she didn’t want it to be for the sake of convenience. No, she wanted to marry him for all the reasons that mattered.  

 

“I can’t ask him to marry me before he’s ready just so I can avoid the Ministry’s stupid law. I’m serious about him, more serious than I’ve ever been. I can’t ask that of him.”

 

“So, you’re saying…”

 

Her heart felt like a pin cushion as she nodded her agreement back at him. “Yes. If you’re still offering, that is.”

 

Ron smiled back at her before bringing her in her arms for a hug. “Just tell me when. I’ll be there.”

 

He didn’t leave for a while; instead, he held her as she cried until the Floo again roared to life and Malfoy stepped through, replacing the arms that were holding her together.

 

“You’re...you’re going to marry him, then?” The words sat uncomfortably between them, even as she was cradled to his chest and a little broken cry vibrated through her.

 

“It won’t change anything,” she said, trying to convince herself more than anything else. “My motion will pass next month and by this time next year, it’ll all be a horrible dream. We’ll…” Hermione blinked up at Draco, trying to banish the tears sliding over her cheeks.  “We’ll be okay? _Won’t we_?”

 

Something dark flashed behind his cloudy eyes and he swallowed once before answering. “Of course.” Draco nodded, a smile spreading over his lips that didn’t touch his eyes. “As long as you think this is best.”

 

She didn’t. Not in the slightest. But the man had buried a wife less than two years ago and if and when he was ready to take another, he’d ask.

 

She refused to be an obligation.

 

\-----

 

The weeks following the Wizengamot were complicated for Hermione. Her sadness morphed to rage and then back to sadness in an endless current of confusing and overwhelming emotions.

 

Christmas Eve found Hermione at Malfoy Manor.

 

She smiled politely throughout dinner, never once letting on the dread she felt at each passing day.

 

After their meal ended and they made their way to the opulent Christmas tree dripping in sparkling silver lights and emerald and crimson baubles—not to mention an almost tacky amount of gifts for young Scorpius, the majority from his Nannie.

 

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” Narcissa said with a warm smile. “I think I’ll retire for the evening and you leave you young ones to have fun without me. Scorpius? Come on now.” Narcissa held out her hand for her grandson, but before he could take it, Hermione intervened.

 

“Oh, just one moment!” Hermione called and pulled a small— surprisingly— ill wrapped gift from her charmed bag. “Here you are, Scorpius.”

 

The blond child teetered over to her and tore at the wrappings, revealing a small stuffed lion. The resounding happy screech caused Hermione to snicker— and Draco to snort— and she wrapped Scorpius in her arms for a goodnight hug.

 

“You never know, Scorp. We might make a Gryffindor of you yet,” she whispered loudly into his ear and gave him a final kiss on his fine, blond hair.

 

“Ni-night, Minnie!” Scorpius cooed, hugging the lion to his chest and toppling over to his father. “Ni-night, Dada.”

 

“Happy Christmas, bud. I’ll see you in the morning.” Draco lifted his son effortlessly into his arms before releasing him to his grandmother.

 

Before long, the two of them sat on opposite armchairs staring at the slow blinking lights of the twelve-foot Christmas tree. Behind it was a wall of giant pane-glass windows showcasing the slow snowfall dusting over the Malfoy gardens.

 

“Are you tired?” Hermione asked pleasantly, pulling the large goblet of red wine to her lips and kicking her shoes off so she might tuck them under her. Her eyes drifted to where Draco sat and she was struck by the intensity of which he stared at her. “Are you okay?”

 

There was a pause before he answered, one where he shifted in his seat, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. “Not really.”

 

His simple answer slammed into her, leaving her breathless and sputtering on her wine. This was it then. The moment that he decided that enough was enough and he’d rather not continue a relationship with a married woman; the moment that decided everything else.

 

“Something you want to talk about?” she asked after swallowing her wine.

 

“Yes.” Malfoy was on his feet then, pacing back and forth until she was sure he was going to wear the wood thin. “The problem is, this little pesky marriage law.”

 

Her eyes rolled of their own accord. Yes, the marriage law was quite an issue for her as well, in case he hadn’t noticed.

 

Draco stopped in front of the tree, outlined by the blinking lights and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You see, I have no interest in dating someone who is married to Ronald Weasley.”

 

If she listened close enough, she could hear the pop of their perfect little bubble bursting. She sat up tall, even though her jaw quivered. “Draco, you know I don’t have a choice—”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Draco interrupted, his brows pulled low over his grey eyes. He took a few determined steps towards her and fell to his knee in front of the wing-back chair. Her normally quick brain struggled to understand the connection between his words and his movements. It wasn’t until a shocked gasp slipped past her tongue as her eyes settled on the incredible ruby nestled in a circle of diamonds that rested in the small velvet box he was presenting her with. “I’m a choice, Granger. I love you. Scorpius, somehow, might love you more than me.” Draco’s laugh trilled through her and tears built in the corner of her eyes. “I know it’s soon, but I choose you. And I know that you’re meant to be marrying someone else in a few days, but I really hope you’ll reconsider. Will you, Hermione Granger, be my wife?”

 

Hermione’s trembling fingers shot up to cover her mouth as her eyes blew wide. A hundred thoughts bounced around the spaces in her mind and she struggled to make sense of the overwhelming joy and conflict flooding her system. She blinked a few times before setting her wine glass down on the table next to her and taking his face in her hands. “Draco, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. You aren’t the one rushed into anything here and if you need more time… well, that’s what I have. You don’t have to make any forever decisions when it comes to me. Not yet.”

 

For the briefest of moments, Draco rested the weight of his cheek in the palm of her hand. Then he turned his face so he could press his lips there. His fingers threaded through hers and he traced the space between her knuckles on her ring finger and a smile played on his lips.

 

“When we lost Astoria and it was just Scorp and I… I swore that I would be enough for him. But you… you changed everything, Hermione. I didn’t think I would ever need someone again, but I was wrong. I need you. Falling in love with you—” Draco coughed into his chest as he blinked away a threatening tear.

 

“Draco, there are other things to consider… I don’t think—” Hermione paused then, knowing that in this moment she needed to be completely honest. “I don’t _want_ to have biological children. I don’t know that’s ever really been a part of my plan. But I know I love Scorpius and will love him every day you let me be his life. I just don’t know if that will be enough for you.”

 

With a small shake of his head, Draco studied her. His eyes tightened, trying to convey the seriousness of his following words. “I’m so sorry if I ever let on that I expected you to bear children, Hermione. I only needed to know the rest of it. As long as you love Scorpius as much as I know you do, nothing else matters.”

 

Hermione laughed out loud at that and brought her hands to the back of his neck so she might tug him closer. “I love you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

 

Draco pressed his lips against hers and she let out a quiet, happy sob against his lips. “You know... you still have to answer me,” Draco pointed out after their lips had parted.

 

Hermione sat back in a huff and rolled her eyes playfully. “Well, of course, I’ll marry you.”

 

“Fucking, finally!” Draco nearly shouted, grabbing her around the waist, yanking her to her feet, and crushing her to his body.

 

\-----

 

Sitting in Draco’s study as he thumbed through a potions anthology, Hermione was struck with the surrealness of it all. In asking her to be his bride, Draco had broken generations of traditions. She would someday be the lady of this house, in title, if in nothing else and surely there were _expectations_ with that.

 

“Draco?”

 

He hummed in an absent response and flipped a page.

 

“How do you think things will change? After the wedding that is… are there things I’ll be required to do?”

 

At that, Draco’s eyes flickered up over the edge of his book and he sat up slightly straighter. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, your mum… she _does_ things, right? Are there things that pure-blooded girls do when they get married? Things I ought to do?” Hermione felt genuinely curious. There was no animosity or judgment colouring her voice and her head lulled to the side as the spoke.

 

Draco, however, tossed his book on the table and immediately strolled to her side, collapsing on his knees in front of her, much like he did when he proposed. “I wouldn’t have married you if I simply wanted someone to run the Manor, Hermione.” The use of her given name made her cheeks flush. “Come with me,” Draco said, holding his hand out to her.

 

As soon as their palms touched they were Apparated to a small room she’d never been to before. On the wall was a similar tapestry to the one hanging in Grimmauld Place. Dozens and dozens of small portraits adorned the wall with interlocking vines showing the different branches of their Malfoy family.

 

Hermione’s fingers skimmed the wall as her eyes roamed the images in front of her and quickly, her focus fell on her fiance’s face near the corner and she stepped forward to study both his, and the stunning portrait of Astoria Malfoy. Under the pair of them, was Scorpius, the boy who had stolen her heart over the past year and she felt an unfamiliar pain as she once again stared at his mother.

 

There would be a lifetime of memories for Hermione and Scorpius; she would be there for all the memories that he would remember. For all intents and purposes, she would be his mother. What an incredible and important honor that was being bestowed upon her and she wasn’t sure how in the world she was going to live up to it.

 

Curling around both Scorpius and Draco’s portraits was another vine, leading off towards the bottom right and when Hermione realised it was _her_ image there. Her head snapped to Draco and she gasped.

 

“Mother had it added on Boxing Day,” Draco said, taking a few more steps into the room. “And this?” He pointed to the intertwining vines around their portraits. “That’s all that matters moving forward. I don’t care about lineages or other such nonsense. You and I are going to build something new going forward and I don’t care how things happened before.” Draco’s arm wound around her belly and he rested his chin on the top of her curly hair. “Yeah?”

 

Hermione looked again to Astoria’s image on the wall and she felt her heart wring out like a wet towel. “I don’t know how to be a mum, Draco. I’m not sure I’ll be as good as she would have been.” Her voice was quiet in the small room as she settled into his arms.

 

“You’ll be brilliant, Granger. Just like you always are.”

  


* * *

**January**

* * *

 

 

She strategically planned their intimate wedding ceremony for the day after the Ministry’s little due date, as a final ‘fuck you’ to the Minister himself.

 

Regardless of the reason for the expedited wedding ceremony, Narcissa was overjoyed to plan a party in a matter of days. No detail was overlooked and Hermione was given countless options to peruse, from flowers to _hors-d'œuvres_ to wedding night negligees.

 

Now that all was said and done, she sat at a long table dripping with winter white roses and tall golden candelabras. Her _husband_ , which something was certain she’d never get tired of saying, looked at her with starry eyes and kissed her every chance he got.

 

The dress she had chosen was a mix of ivory and blush with a scalloped lace neckline that faded around her waist into the elegant flair of the chiffon. Her hair had been twisted back into a chignon and she’d even allowed Ginny to add more than her normal minimalist makeup.

 

Even if had she had not felt beautiful, which she had, the way Draco stared at her as she’d approached him in the middle of the garden would have convinced her otherwise. His jaw trembled as he fought through his tears to smile brightly at her and as their hands touched under a canopy of fairy lights, two fat tears slid down his cheek.

 

It was the most perfect day.

 

And later, as she twirled in his arms with all the attention of their loved ones, Hermione felt— for perhaps the first time in more than a decade— _lucky_.

 

\-----

 

The hot sun kissed their skin as they laid out on the deck of their private bungalow. The clear blue water surrounded them on nearly every side and in the distance they had spotted some playful dolphins just an hour or so ago.

 

Hermione loved the crisp feeling of the sun on her skin and every time she looked over at her husband shaded by a large umbrella and reapplying sun repellant charms, she couldn’t help but giggle.

 

When his fingers slid the buttons of his white linen shirt open and the planes of his chest were exposed, Hermione gaze darkened. Sure, she’d heard of the honeymoon phase before… but _this_... This was an unquenchable need to taste his skin whenever he was near.

 

He shrugged from his shirt, still under the steady shade of his large umbrella and leaned back with one arm resting over his pale hair, his sunglasses hiding his gaze.

 

Hermione wasted no time in throwing her legs over the sun chair and tiptoeing the few steps to where he lay. She startled him by straddling his lap and both hands came down on her hips as he laughed.

 

“You’re insatiable, witch,” he murmured as his hands brushed over the ridges of her ribs, shifting her slightly on his lap.

 

“I can’t help it…” Hermione purred, as she leaned over him, brushing her lips softly against his lips. “You’re all pasty and glowing in the sunlight, how’s a girl to resist?”

 

Draco smirked as one of his hands came down on her rear with a playful swat that made her yelp, before grinding down on him as she felt him grow beneath her.

 

Draco’s hands slid back up her front, palming her breasts and tugging at thin black material of her bikini until her nipples were exposed to the sun and he captured one between his lips as his thumb glided over the other. Despite the heat, gooseflesh covered her skin and she nearly collapsed on top of him, both of her breasts pressing into his face as his free hand tugged at the thin string of her bikini bottom.

 

One side freed quickly and he groped the flesh of her bum as his mouth left wet open-mouthed kisses over to her other breast and then up her neck where he sucked and nipped at her until she was sure there’d be a love bite.

 

When she let out a moan as his tongue soothed the spot on her neck he’d been nearly assaulting, Draco’s hands eagerly roamed the bare expanse of her back as he pulled the small bit of fabric from her arse. Both his hands came down to the curve of her arse and he dug his fingers deep into her soft flesh, slipping two fingesr into her, the thin fabric of his swim trunks as their only barrier.

 

Hermione whimpered and lifted up onto her knees and Draco’s hands cupped her sex as he stared up at her. She pushed the sunglasses from his face and braced her hands on his shoulder as his thumb gave a few firm swipes at her clit before slipping two fingers in her wet folds. Hermione whined as he curled his fingers inside her and she couldn’t stop the snapping of her hips as he teased the spot just inside that made her keen.

 

“I’m ready, Draco,” Hermione whimpered as she fucked his hand, knowing that his cock was inches away.

 

“I like watching you like this,” Draco said, his voice husky as his dark eyes studied her. “Love watching you come undone by just my touch.”

 

His free hand gripped her hip bone and then slid up to her breast, plucking at her nipple until her fingers were cutting into his skin and she was moaning her way through her orgasm. “Dr-Draco…” she managed as her head fell back and the walls of her sex clenched on his fingers.

 

Draco slid his hand from her after her tremors had passed, letting his two soaked fingers slide purposefully over her clit once more, causing her to shiver as she helped free him of his trunks.

 

She wasted no time in settling on his cock, releasing a gasp at the sensation gliding over her sensitive bud. His hands settled on her thighs and helped her set a hard, almost tortuous pace. With each buck of her hips, she elicited a pleasured little noise and her back arched as Draco gave a few more hard thrusts up into her, letting out a low rumble as he emptied into her.

 

Hermione collapsed on her husband's chest as he pulled the remaining strings of her bathing suit top and slid it from between them. Her lips found his cheek and then slowly moved towards his mouth, pillowing his bottom lip between hers and curling her fingers in his hair. She pulled back, resting her forehead on his and smiled. “Did I mention how much I love Fiji?”

 

Draco smirked and filled his hands with her arse once more. “Once or twice, love.”

 

\-----

 

The portkey delivered the grinning couple into a few inches of snow on the lawns of Malfoy Manor and both of their cheery dispositions turned to scowls as they trudged towards the path. Scorpius bounded out in nothing more than a jumper a pair of denims and Draco flew forward to capture the boy in his arms.

 

“Dada! Miss you, Dada,” Scorp said as he buried his face in his father’s neck.

 

“We missed you too buddy, but it’s freezing… Let’s get you in.”

 

Draco led them back in the giant garden doors and into the parlour where they were surprised to see their friends and family waiting for them. A tacky little ‘Welcome Home’ banner, that could not have been the work of Narcissa Malfoy, hung from two columns. They were greeted by shouts and hooting and even a waggling of eyebrows from a few of them and Hermione as passed around in celebratory hugs.

 

“What on earth are you all doing here?” She grinned as she stared bright-eyed at all of them.

 

Harry was the one to step forward, his eyes bright and a wide smile on his thin lips. “We wanted to be with you when you opened this.”

 

A thick envelope was offered to her and Hermione’s mouth ran dry as her eyes focused on the wax seal of the Wizengamot. “Is this what I think it is?” She barely recognised her own shaking voice.

 

“Open it,” Harry urged, his eyebrows raising about the frame of his glasses.

 

Her fingers trembled as she tore hastily at the seal and pulled the thick parchment from its confines.

 

 

**Dear Mrs. Granger-Malfoy,**

 

**We want to first congratulate you on your recent nuptials and have been notified that your wedding license was indeed received by the clerk’s office.**

 

**In the following pages, you will find the results of our investigation and the final vote conducted just this morning on January 7th in the lower chambers of the Wizengamot.**

 

**Your motion has passed.**

 

**Congratulations and please let our offices know if we can be in any further assistance.**

 

**Signed,**

 

**_Margo Peabody_ **

**Undersecretary to the Ministry of Magic**

 

 

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears as she re-read the cover letter again and again.

 

Passed.

 

Her motion had _passed_.

 

“I did it,” she finally breathed, as the room erupted into more joyous cheers and Draco wrapped her in a crushing hug.

 

“I knew you’d pull it off, Granger.”

 

Ron found her next, sweeping her up in one of his too-big embraces and she laughed as her feet touched the tile once more.

 

“So what’s this mean, ‘Mione? No more marriage law?” Ron asked, his hands clapping together as he spoke.

 

“Well not officially…”

 

Ron’s normally clear gaze darkened and she laughed. “I swear, Ronald. Do you never listen to me? The petition had nothing to do with the Marriage Law. Even if by some mercy Shacklebolt repelled the stupid law, there is still a lot more work that needs to be done and to be honest, I don’t trust him to do it. I can’t trust a leader who would enact that law in the first place.” Hermione finished with a tight jaw.

 

“So, what? You’ve had him kicked out of office?” Ron’s jaw dropped in disbelief and Hermione rolled her eyes. How in the world could he have missed everything she’d been working on for the last few months?

 

“Absolutely not. I’ve simply petitioned to change the minimum age requirement to RUN for the Minister of Magic.” When Ron’s brows continued to hitch further and further together, she threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “You now only to be thirty years old to run for office, Ronald. Which I turned in September, in case you forgot.”

 

Realisation made a slow appearance over Ron’s features and Hermione’s lips curled up into a wicked smile.

 

“So I’ll be needing some help on a campaign, it seems. I’ll be running for office in the next term. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” Her nose scrunched up and her eyes gleamed down at the paper once more.

 

“Holy shite, ‘Mione.” A shocked little gasp of air escaped Ron’s mouth.

 

“Granger-Malfoy for Minister 2010!” Harry shouted above the chatter of the crowd and in a slow, almost embarrassing chant, they all joined in.

 

Scorpius held her hands out for her and she took him happily, placing a kiss on his cheek and tickling his bloated little belly.

 

“Granger-Malfoy for Minister?” Draco grinned. “I like the sound of that. Say, will I get perks for sleeping with the Minister?”

 

“You’re incorrigible,” she scolded, nudging him with her elbow before stealing a kiss.

 

Standing with her new child beaming back at her and her husband pressing a kiss against her temple, not to mention a passed motion in her hands, Hermione couldn’t help but think of how incredibly, indisputably perfect her life was.

  


* * *

**February**

* * *

 

  


A sea of too-bright and offensive flashes blinded the small family as they stood in solidarity in front of the fountain in the Ministry Atrium. Scorpius burrowed his face into his father’s chest just to avoid it and Hermione lifted a palm in an attempt to block it out.

 

“All right, all right!” Hermione called, stepping up to the podium and gripping it’s sides tightly. “I’ve called this press conference for a very important reason.”

 

Her gaze floated over the dozen reporters, photographers and other attendee’s that were curious to see what she might have to say. Her focus locked on a stoic and tight-jawed Kingsley Shacklebolt and she gulped, tilting her chin up slightly.

 

“As some of you are aware, the Wizengamot has recently passed a motion I filed in December. This motion allows for anyone the age of thirty or above to run for office.” Hermione shifted her weight back and forth and looked over her shoulder at her Draco who was offering her an encouraging smile. “Without any further ado, I would like to announce my candidacy for Minister of Magic for the upcoming term.”

 

The atrium fell silent for two heartbeats before a cacophony of questions and shocked responses echoed off the walls and the crowd pushed closer to her.

 

Draco was suddenly standing just a step behind her and brought his lips close to her ear so he might whisper. “No going back now, Granger. Now it’s time to kick some arse."

  


* * *

**Four Months Later**

* * *

  
  
**From the desk of Hermione Granger-Malfoy, Minister of Magic**

**June 12th, 2010**

 

**The Minister hereby decrees that the previously known “Marriage Law” is now overturned. No persons living under Wizarding law in the United Kingdom and its districts will be required to marry by a certain date, year, or give reasonable proof that they have tried to conceive of their own accord.**

 

**Signed,**

**_Granger-Malfoy_ **

**Minister of Magic**

 

 

_THE END_

 

* * *

 

**A/N: I had so much fun writing this little short story for BiscuitsforPotter!! I have read maybe one Marriage Law story before and have never attempted a write of one, so although it’s not your normal take on the trope, I hope you enjoyed it! Your aestethic was so much fun to build a story around!**

 

**To MCal, my constant support, my sane place and safe place: Thank you for all your help with this story!! Everytime we collaborate I feel better about the words I’m writing.**

 

**To all the lovely readers who follow me along on adventure to adventure: I adore you. Thank you. You keep me writing and I love hearing your thoughts!**

 

**To the guest reviewer Marge who called me a privileged white woman (I am biracial, by the way. The first generation on my mothers side born in the US.), who said I didn’t understand feminism or wanting to challenge the patriarchy: I hope you finished the story. Stories don’t end half way through and laws aren’t changed quickly. It was important to me that Hermione always had a “safe” choice in Ron, that he offered her something she needed and that she CHOSE to marry Draco for all the right reasons, and not because of the law. It was also important to me that she not only changed the law, but also will be apart of the laws going forward. Sometimes the foundation is cracked and everything built on it is crooked. This is how I view a lot of what’s going on in our world today, and I thought I could pump that into a little short story. I will continue writing my “trash”, as you so sweetly put it, and if you follow along for another story, I hope you will remember that a real person put hours into crafting this little hobby story. I have feelings too. Wishing you all the best, Marge.**

  
  



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